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SILVERN SECRET 

. . . OK . . . 


The Autobiography of a Silver Dollar 

( COPYF!lQHT, I89fe 

. . . BY . . . 


I.IDA M. KECK 

M 


HAMILTON, OHIO 





THE REPTTBLIJAN PUBLISHING CO. 
HAMILTON, OHIO 








X 


>? 


TO 

MRS. BLANCHE HOOVEN GRIFFIS 

WHOSE KIND ASSISTANCE IN 
FURNISHING DATA MADE 
ITS PUBLICATION 
POSSIBLE, 

THIS BOOK IS GRATEFULLY DEDICATED 


* « 1 


- PREFATORY - - 


In order that the reader may understand the true sense and 
significance of the following story, a few explanatory remarks 
may not be out of place. 

It will be observed that throughout the entire narrative the 
Dollar (who is the traveler) speaks as though personally addressing 
the reader. The reason for this is that the Dollar is presumably 
telling the story to the author. With this fact in view, it will at 
once be understood why in relating an incident such an expression 
as “I will tell you,” etc., etc., is used. 

In writing “A Silvern Secret,” the author was greatly assisted 
>y Mrs. Blanche Hooven Griffis, from whose journal, diary, pho- 
ographic collections and personal reminiscences of foreign travels, 
auch help was obtained. 

A number of the incidents described in the following chap- 
ters, were suggested by similar occurrences recorded by the above 
data. 

The relation of the Dollar to the world is meant to represent 
every individual’s position in regard to his fellow beings; and to 
show how often unconsciously we become instruments for good 
or evil in the hands of fortune. 

\Ve are the true coins of the spiritual realm. Let us see to 
it that we are each one a true legal tender, doing uncomplainingly 
the service, however humble, of the Great Ruler of the Universe; 
and being worthy to bear likeness of Him in whose image we 
are made. Thus we, like the Silver Dollar, may proudly bear 
upon our faces, not the Goddess of Uiberty, but the God of Heaven; 
not the American Eagle, but the Dove of Heavenly Peace; and 
honestly have for our motto, that of our own great nation, “In 
God we Trust.” 























































































































































































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A SILVERN SECRET 


OR 

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SILVER DOLLAR 


I came into -the world as a silver dollar in 1878, and conse- 
quently at this writing (1893) I am “sweet sixteen.” 

My existence has been a series of experiences, all more or 
less interesting, but like the figures made by the little pieces of 
glass in a kaleidoscope, always different. 

It shall be my aim in this brief history of myself to relate 
only such of the events alluded to as shall be entertaining or in- 
structive to my readers. 

I have concluded first to tell you how I happened to be a sil- 
ver dollar at all. My opportunities for research, however, have 
been somewhat limited, and .should I evince ignorance upon any 
of the subjects mentioned, I trust you will consider such errors 
as mistakes of the brain and not of the heart. 

Being of an inquiring turn of mind, I have availed myself of 
every opportunity of becoming familiar with my pedigree, and the 
first chapter of this little book shall be devoted to “The Dust Out 
Of Which I Was Formed.” 

CHAPTER I. 

THE DUST OUT OF WHICH I WAS FORMED. 

P'or countless centuries, the silver ore out of which I was 
made, was hidden from the sight of man. 

The wild flowers of spring-time, the roses of summer, the har- 
vests of autumn, the cold winds of winter, visited the earth again 


8 


and again before men came to know of the vast treasure in store 
for them beneath the rugged surface of Utah. But, one memora- 
ble morning, in the spring of 1869, a party of “prospectors” who 
were searching for lead, ascended one of the numerous hills of 
Juan County, Utah, and in searching for lead they found that rich 
veins of silver seamed the rocks beneath their feet. Being igno- 
rant, however, as to the appearance of silver ore, they wasted 
large quantities of the purest virgin silver. 

However, by-and-by, intelligent men came to see the mine, 
and it was christened “Eureka Hill.” The manner of opening up 
the mine was something on this order: — They made large cuts or 
openings on the surface with hammers and drills, and into these 
they put black powder, which shattered the adamantine rocks as 
though they were children’s toys. Of course a great many persons 
laid claim to the treasure, but after much litigation the whole 
interest was bought out by one company. Vertical shafts were 
driven to the vein, and the character of the ore was ascertained 
to be of superior quality. I was greatly gratified when I learned 
this, and I take a certain amount of pride in the knowledge. 

The most of the silver was taken to a place called Sandy, 
Utah, and underwent a process something like this : — The ore 
was first put into an immense “rock-breaker.” This machine 
resembles the human jaws and with these it grinds the ore un- 
til it is broken into small fragrants. Next it is placed in drying 
kilns, the weight being taken before and after heating so as to 
estimate the percentage of moisture it contains. The “battery,” 
or stamp, came next. These^ weigh about 850 pounds each. 
After this, the silver was in a pulpy condition and salt was mixed 
with it. This mixture was placed in a furnace andjroasted 
and the silver was brought into a free state so as to be taken up 
by mercury, or quick-silver. It was then placed in large pans 
containing quick-silver where the pulp was thoroughly mixed by 
mullers, or flat iron shoes. Then the mass was drawn off into 
settlers, the dross or tailings were washed away, and the pure sil- 
ver with the mercury was placed in large conical shaped strainers 
made of heavy canvas. The mixture was then called amalgam, 
and after straining out all- the quick-silver possible, the amalgam 


9 


was placed in a retort — a large iron pot shaped like an ordinary 
water glass. An iron cover was clamped over the top of the re* 
tort and intense heat was applied. Then the quick-silver pas- 
sed out through a pipe and the silver was in a moulten mass. It 
was now formed into bricks. Then it was taken to the assay 
office where small particles were chipped off to ascertain the fine- 
ness of the brick. 

I was glad to learn that the silver from the Eureka Mine was 
of very fine quantity, but I have always regretted that so much 
human toil was necessary before I could be a silver dollar. 

The men who brought the silver to the light, or rather who 
sent it up, have, it seems to me, the very hardest life of all the 
people of whom I ever heard, but I shall not harrow up your feel- 
ings by describing the hardships of these miners. My story is to 
be only of those persons with whom I came in contact, and I will 
return to the silver bricks, and in so doing will introduce to you 
Clarence G. Urban, of New York. 

He was a young man of eastern birth, whose father was the 
owner of one of the largest stove manufactories in the country. 
Clarence had a few more years of schooling to obtain, and then 
he too was to enter the business as a junior partner. His father 
now bore the much coveted title of millionaire. Clarence had pur- 
chased a large interest in the silver mine in question, and desiring 
to visit the western part of the country, concluded to take a trip 
to Utah to look after his mining interests. Accordingly, he made 
the long trip, and found so many interesting things in connection 
with the mine that he felt amply repaid for the journey. When 
he was ready to return, he was asked to oversee the shipment of 
a large quantity of silver bricks to Philadelphia where they were 
to be sold. He willingly consented, and the brick containing the 
dust out of which I was formed was among the number. Arriving 
in Philadelphia, he had us taken to a building called the Mint. 
Here he left the silver bullion, as it is called, and went — I know 
not where. But now having related the events which led to my 
entering the Mint, I shall give you a short history of that insti- 
tution before describing “The Way I Came Into Existence.” 


TO 


The need of such an institution was keenly felt by the colon- 
ists previous to tbe Revolution, and soon after the adoption of the 
Constitution, an Act of Congress provided for the establishment 
of the United States Mint. [That was on April the second, 1792.] 
Consequently three hundred years after Columbus discovered 
America, a new medium of exchange was added to the coins of 
the world. The first Mint was a plain brick structure, located on 
the east side of Seventh Street, near Arch, and its corner stone 
was laid by David Rittenhouse, director of the Mint, on July 31, 
1792. This building was occupied for about forty years. It was 
then found that a larger and more commodious building was 
absolutely necessarj'. Therefore, on the 19th day of May, 1829, 
Congress passed an Act locating the U. S. Mint at the northwest 
corner of Chestnut and Juniper Streets. The corner stone of this 
edifice was laid on the Fourth of July, 1829. The building is of 
white marble after the Grecian style of architecture, and the roof 
is covered with copper. 

The Mint is a spacous building and contains a large number 
of apartments, but to- describe all of these would be to exceed the 
limits of this narrative. In giving you my autobiography, how- 
ever, I thought it well to acquaint you wdth a few T of the causes 
which led to my coinage. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE WAY I CAME INTO EXISTENCE. 

After Clarence Urban had sold his silver bricks to the Direc- 
tor of the Mint, many curious things took place before I became 
a bright, glossy silver dollar. 

First, in his presence and that of the proper officials, the sil- 
ver was carefully weighed. It was then locked in iron boxes and 
taken to the melting room where the boxes were opened by two 
men, each provided with a key to one of the separate locks. It 
was then placed in pots, being first mixed with borax, etc., and 
was then melted and placed in iron moulds and when cooled was 
again taken to the deposit room in bars, where it was reweighed 
and a small piece cut from the lot by a man called the assayer. 
The proportion of fine silver in this chip, of course, determined 
the fineness of the whole. 

The silver was then carried up stairs and the whole mass was 
thrown into a large tank of boiling nitric acid. Scarcely ten 
minutes had elapsed after the silver entered the tank until not a 
particle of that metal could be detected. The next thing to be 
- done was to recover the silver from the acid. This was done by 
pouring the boiling mixture into tubs prepared for its reception 
and adding some salt water to it. This done, the silver sank to 
the bottom, and the acid containing the alloy was poured off. 
The silver was now read) 7, for other and more curious treatment 
than it had yet received. It now somewhat resembled cheese and 
was carried to the drying cellar. Here it was put under eighty 
tons pressure and all the water pressed out. It was then dried 
with heat and conveyed to the furnaces. Here it was alloyed, 
melted and poured into narrow moulds. The bars of silver so 
formed are called ingots ; they are about twelve inches long and 


12 


an inch thick. These ingots are worth $60.00 each. These 
rooms have a fa^e floor, made in honey-comb pattern, so that it 
can be readily taken up. It is rough and thus prevents any par- 
ticles of the precious metals adhering to the feet of those who 
enter. 

The next place the silver entered was the rolling room, and 
here the ingots were reduced to planchets for coining. It passed 
through this machine eight times, and the bars were then six feet 
long and the exact thickness of a dollar. These bars were then 
placed in another furnace and were heated to a red heat. The 
silver bars were now soft and pliable and were allowed to cool 
slowly. The drawing bench was next used, and after passing 
through this machine, the silver was ready for cutting. This 
was done by a cutting machine, and after passing through this 
the planchets were taken to the adjusting room. Here they 
were very carefully weighed, and if one was too heavy or too 
light it went through a process called adjusting. This work was 
done by ladies. The time of my advent was now rapidly ap- 
proaching, but I was not yet /. The coining department is the most 
interesting to the visitor, and occupies the larger portion of the 
floor on the east side of the building. After we were received 
into this department, I was caught by the milling machine which 
gave me the raised edge which you may observe upon any of my 
brothers. The coining press was operated by a lady, and united 
beauty with strength. Here they stamped upon my face a Liberty 
head facing left, upon which is a cap, a wheat and cotton wreath, 
and a band inscribed “Liberty;” above, “E PLURIBUS UNUM,” 
beneath, the date, 1878, and the thirteen stars. On my back is 
stamped the American eagle with expanded wings, bearing in 
its right talon an olive branch w T ith nine leaves, in the left three 
arrows. In the field above appears the significant words “In God 
We Trust,” and beneath, a semi-wreath tied and crossed, reaching 
upward toward the wings, and these words, “United States of 
America.” I began to feel very patriotic, and for the first time 
my personality was established. I was now a full fledged silver 
dollar,/ Worth one hundred cents, and a legal tender all over the 
United 1 States, 


*3 


Before leaving this department, however, the dollars 
were counted by a very ingenious contrivance called a “count- 
ing-board.” This board resembled a common washing-board with 
the grooves running parallel with the sides, but much larger than 
those of a washing-board. The board was worked by hand, 
over a box, and as we were counted we slipped one by one into a 
drawer prepared to receive us. I was then placed in a bag with 
nine hundred and ninety-nine other dollars and awaited shipment. 
During my short stay in the Mint, after becoming a silver dollar, 
I remained in the bag and was protected by a vault, which is 
made of steel and whose doors are safe doors six inches thick. 
These are protected by burglar-defying locks and guarded by 
two men. One of these men represents the Director of the Mint 
and the other represents the superintendent. Each was a check 
upon the other and nothing could be taken without being seen 
and recorded by both. The vault doors could not be opened 
unless both of these men were present. 

After leaving the Mint, I was sent to the United States 
Treasury at Washington, and placed in a vault to await shipment. 
My stay here was very short for ere long the bag in which I had 
been placed with nine hundred and ninety-nine other silver dol- 
lars, was sent to a distant city and entered a large bank. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE BANK AND MY DEPARTURE. 

The bank was a very interesting institution to me,, and here 
I spent some very happy days. The gentleman who took charge 
of us dollars when we entered the bank, was called a teller, and 
after ascertaining that there were just one thousand dollars in the 
bag, he placed the larger part of the money in the safe. As I am 
one of the dollars which was kept in the safe, I am able to give 
you a brief description of my temporary home. It was a steel 
safe and the door was round. The queerest part of its construc- 
tion was, however, that the door actually screwed into the body 
of the safe, and when it was closed and the time lock attached, 
not a particle of a air could enter the safe. One night we dollars 
heard a strange sound outside and wondered who could be coming 
to the bank at that unusual hour. We heard the fire proof vault 
doors forcibly opened, and discovered by the whispered conversa- 
tion of the men that they were burglars and were discussing the 
best way in which to rob the safe. Presently one of them sug- 
gested dynamite, and then we dollars began to feel rather uncom- 
fortable, for we knew what a dreadful loss it would be to the bank 
and the depositors, if these men succeeded in carrying us away. 
But all of a sudden I recollected having heard the president of 
the bank say that a Mosler patent screw door bank safe, like the 
one we were in, had never been opened by experts or burglars, 
though repeated attempts had been made by both. After that I 
was not frightened and listened with interest to the plans of the bur- 
glars. They endeavored to discover some place where they could 
introduce explosives, but to no purpose. They tried drills and ham- 
mers, and all manner of tools used in their profession, but each 
attempt was effectually bafRed, and they finally began to swear 


^5 


and gave it up. This was the only really exciting event that oe- 
cured while I was in the bank, but the daily business of the clerks 
afforded me much entertainment. They were busily engaged in 
making out checks, looking after collections, answering corre- 
spondence, etc., etc. I noticed that all money that came into the 
bank passed through the hands of the teller. People came in 
continually either to draw or to deposit money, and on those days 
that I happened to be taken out of the safe, I had ample oppor- 
tunities for studying human nature. Rich, poor, high and low 
came alike to this institution and their one theme seemed always 
to be mone3' . 

But one day I was handed by the cashier to a poor woman 
who asked for alms. She was a pale faced creature, with a care- 
worn face expression and tearful eyes. Her dress was of the 
cheapest material ; her wrap, a faded shawl, and she wore a decid- 
edly unfashionable bonnet, but I was a novice in the fashionable 
world, and thought it delightful to be pressed so affectionately by 
that toil roughened and wind reddened human hand. She 
thanked the cashier very sincerely and then her lips began to 
tremble and a warm tear dropped on my face. But she hastily 
brushed it away, and turning slowly, left the bank. She cariied 
me down the crowded street, and I began to hope she would 
always be my mistress, she was so careful of me ; but my hopes 
were rudely blasted, for coming to a butcher’s shop, she entered 
and purchased a pound of beef, murmuring as she did so, “she 
needs it, poor little dear, and she shall have it.” When the 
butcher handed her the parcel, she gave me to him and received 
some small coin in exchange. The butcher threw me carelessly into 
his cash drawer, and here I had my first experience of being 
thrown with counterfeits. One or two coins of that description 
were in the draw T er, and I at once conceived a bitter hatred for 
them. Their faces were similar to mine, but they were not silver 
and / am. You will no doubt conclude that I am an aristocrat, but 
such is not the case. I do not consider myself better than a 
quarter, a dime, or any lesser coin, if they are only legal tender, any 
more than you wealthy people would shun a poor person simply 
because of his poverty. The pass-port to good society all over 


i6 

the monetary world is true worth, and it would be well if the unit 
of value were the same in the society of men and women. 

But to return to the butcher’s cash drawer ; I was very much 
dissatified. 

About noon I was taken out of the drawer and handed to a 
genial looking gentleman in a black broad-cloth suit and a fash- 
ionable hat. This man carried me to a large dry goods store, pre- 
sumably his own, and placed me in a drawer which, fortunately 
for me, he neglected to close. During that day I heard so much 
about bengaline, ladies’ cloth, muslins and laces that I imagined 
my education in regard to ladies’ attire was very nearly complete. 
The customers amused me greatly; they were sometimes so 
strange. Often a lady would come in desiring to see a certain 
material of a particular shade. It must not be the millionth part 
darker or the millionth part lighter — just that shade and nothing 
else. The clerks were untiring in their efforts to please, and fre- 
quently the counter groaned under its weight of material which 
might possibly suit her, but just as surely as this took place, the 
lady would say at last, that she would not purchase today, but 
would probably “call later,” which meant (the clerks said) that she 
would not buy anything at all. “Ye gods and little fishes” how 
the clerks would upbraid such customers. They tortured the 
language to find words fitting the occasion ; they fumed and fus- 
sed and sometimes swore, but to no avail. I was, on the other 
hand, rather glad when such customers came, for they afforded 
me so much amusement. 

But as evening was coming on, I was given out, in company 
with several others, to an ugly old man in change for a ten dollar 
bill. The man carried me to a decayed house on the outskirts of 
the city, and after carefully bolting, barring and triple locking 
the wooden door, he lighted a lamp and looked stealthly around 
him. The room into which I had been carried was a small, queer 
looking apartment with a few broken chairs, an old-fashioned bed, 
table, and stove as its only furniture. 

The old man did not allow me to remain here long, but taking 
the lamp began to descend a stairway. The man and the steps 


*r 


were both, so old and rickety that the descent was very difficult 
Finally, he reached such a musty cellar that — silver dollar though 
I am — it actually chilled me. He placed the lamp on an old box, 
and its light disclosed a heavy iron door which the old man began 
slowly to open. It was secured first with a heavy iron chain and 
was locked by several devices. When he had succeded in open- 
ing this door, we descended another flight of steps. These led 
into a subterranean vault where the weird light of the smoking 
lamp disclosed a curious picture. Lying on the floor were several 
bags filled with gold and silver money. He opened one of these 
and threw me in together with several other dollars. He then 
closed the sack and prepared to depart. I did not know then 
what I do now, and thought the old man was one of those despis- 
able creatures called misers. Here I remained for several years, 
Occasionally our old master would come down and add to our 
number, each time exclaiming, “a few more, a few more. I wish 
it were many more, but it will be a good thing for the child, and 
I hope she’ll appreciate it. I can’t use them, I’m too old and 
worthless. Yes, that’s what they say about me around the town! 
I’m a pauper, ami ! Oh yes, let them have their jokes. Maybe they’ll 
repent them someday.” And so the old fellow would go on. 
We thought him a harmless lunatic, but wondered where he got 
the money he brought each week and left among us. One Satur- 
day night he did not come. The next morning came and he did 
not appear, and we almost forgot to discuss the “silver question,” 
in our curiosity as to what had become of him. 

Several days passed then one morning we heard a girlish 
voice mingling with the old familar grating of the iron bars, and 
in another moment the old door yielded and we heard this 
exclamation of delighted surprise: “Who would have thought it ( 
that I, Margaret Howe, should have met with such a fortune? 
The idea of old Uncle Joe leaving me all this money when every 
one thought him a veritable beggar ! Poor old soul, he saved it 
all for me, and now he is dead and gone, I am to do what I like 
with it!” Then for an hour or two she emptied the coins, 
counted them and then refilled the sacks, after which she sent the 
bulk of the money to the bank. But before doing so she stooped 


over the bag in which I had so long languished, and thrusting her 
plump little hand down among us, drew a handful out. How 
glad I was that I was among that handful! And if I then 
had cause for self-congratulation, how much more reason 
have I now ! She carried us home with her, and what a 
plain little home it was. Nothing elegant or handsome about 
it, only Margaret. Sweet blue eyes had Margaret, a queenly 
head, and a pretty face. She was about seventeen at that 
time and a perfect little beauty. When .she looked down at us 
while we were still in the vault, I experienced a strange sen- 
sation. It seemed to me that I had seen somewhere before a 
face a great deal like Margaret’s, lint having been shut up so 
long in that dark old prison, I had almost forgotten everything 
I ever knew. But when Margaret carried me to her mother and 
told her that I was only one of several thousands which she now 
possessed, I knew at once where I had seen the other face,. for 
in Mrs. Howe I recognized my first mistress, the poor woman at 
the bank. She looked much better now and the care-worn look 
was gone, for fortune had turned in her favor, and Margaret 
being a studious girl, had obtained a position as governess in a 
.family of wealth and refinement. 

And now I will tell you how it happened that Margaret had 
fallen heir to the small fortune of which I was the one-five- 
thousandth part. Mrs. Howe was an orphan girl and had married 
a Clergyman, rich only in mind and heart. One child was born 
to them, but after a protracted illness, the father died, leaving 
the young mother with Margaret to care for. Mrs. Howe liad 
no relatives with the exception of one brother who never married 
and lived all alone in the tumble-down cottage where I spent 
such a long, long time. No one ever suspected that he had 
money, for he always appeared to be in the direst poverty. But, 
since earliest girlhood he had loved his little niece, Margaret, 
and when her father died he made a mental resolution that he 
would hoard his earnings until he should have enough to make 
her independent. He was a carpenter by trade and worked 
steadily year, in and year out, purchasing only what clothes he 
required and subsisting upon the plainest and cheapest food. 


Some supposed that he drank as he seemed to be so poor, others 
thought him a miser but could not imagine where he hid his 
gold, little dreaming that a -well guarded vault lay far beneath 
his humble dwelling. Seldom indeed did any one cross his 
threshold excepting Margaret. He had been angry at, his sis- 
ter for marrying her lover whom he hated bitterly, and while for 
Margaret’s sake he treated his sister with respect, she knew he 
did not love her. So Margaret claimed the only warm spot in 
his callous old heart. But lately he had been ill and Margaret 
had been much with him during the time she was not employed. 
A physician came daily, but his skill was of no avail, for as the 
old man himself said: “it’s no use takin’ medicine, for I’m done 
fer,’’ One morning, he called Margaret to his bed-side and told 
her that in a certain old chesty of which he handed her a key, she 
would find a will bequeathing to her all his worldly belongings. 
“You will think, Margie, that you are .receiving a poor legacy, 
but after I have gone to sleep for the last time, go down into 
the cellar of this house and from thence into the vault below, and 
then you will see how dearly your old -Uncle Joe has loved you.’’ 
Margie’s eyes were full of tears, and it was plain that the first 
part of his little talk had effected her deeply, for Margie’s heart 
was a tender one, and she loved the friendless, old uncle with all 
the pure affection of her young heart. Margaret’s w;as one of 
those natures whose likes and dislikes w T ere not affected by 
popular opinion. She lived in a little world of her own and only 
ventured out of it, when in the society of those she loved and 
trusted Among these were many a poor soul, who looked upon 
the fair young girl with a kind of .reverence fostered in their 
bosoms almost unconsciously. She was, in short, a ray of 
heaven’s sunshine, enshrined in a human heart. But we have 
wandered from the bed-side of old Jonas Jenkins much farther 
than Margaret would have thought of doing, and in the mean 
time the old heart has ceased to beat; the wrinkled hands that 
toiled for this little woman, unknown to all the world, were 
tenderly folded on the quiet breast by the hands of her he loved 
so well, and the next day a quiet funeral took place, and the poor 
old body was laid to rest. 


Margaret had supposed when her uncle told her about the 
vault beneath the cellar that his mind was wandering, and had 
given little thought to his words. But several days later she 
took the key of the old house, and thought she would make a 
tour of investigation through her new possessions. The result 
of her vi^it you already know. Her mother, as you may imagine, 
was greatly surprised and could scarcely believe the truth of 
Margaret’s statements, but after reading the will and an old 
letter left by her brother, explaining why he had lived in poverty 
all his life, she was convinced of the truth After a*few weeks 
Margaret and her mother moved in more roomy quarters, but 
they spent only a small portion of the money. Margaret pre- 
ferred tp continue her work until some feasible plan suggested 
itself to her whereby she could best use her money. 

One day Margaret and a young girl friend were walking 
down one of the streets of the city and I was in her purse with 
some pap^r money and various small coins. As they passed a 
jeweler’s window, the young lady w T ho was with Margaret sud- 
denly exclaimed “Say Margie, while I was away on my visit one 
of the girls I met proposed one day to a crowd of us that we 
have our initials engraved upon a dollar, and then see whether it 
would ever come back to us. Suppose we do the same.’’ 
Margaret, thinking it an odd little pastime at once agreed, and 
they entered the jewelry store. Now as I was the only silver 
dollar in her purse, of course, I was destined to be given over to 
the jeweler with instructions to engrave M. H. upon my face. 
The other young lady having given similar instructions in re- 
gard to her coin, they left the store. The engraving was an ex- 
perience that I hope I shall never be compelled to undergo 
again. I thought it must be similar to being vaccinated. However 
it was finally over, and we were laid away to await the coming of 
our owners. One afternoon Margaret and her friend came after 
us and I was glad indeed to fall into her hands again. She put 
me in her pocket-book, and she and Miss Blackburn (for such 
was the young lady’s name) started down town to attend (as I 
ascertained from their conversation) a lecture to be given by a 
lady from a distant city to the girls of the town. The lecture 


was called “A Talk With the Girls,” and when the girls entered 
the hall they found a number of others already there, and a 
sweet faced lady was sitting upon the platform. Soon she rose 
to speak, and as her lecture was of such a nature as I think will 
interest all girls, and as it had such a direct bearing upon my 
future fortunes and those of Margaret Howe I will give a part of 
it verbatim. She began thus : 

“Girls, I have come here this afternoon to tell you a story 
which I hope may help some of you, and if such shall be its 
effect, I will feel that my visit has not been in vain. 

“When I was a little girl scarcely ten years of age, my mother 
was taken from me by the hands of death. There were five 
children in all, of which I was the eldest. My father being un- 
able to hire help, I was compelled to take care of them as best I 
could. My father helped me a great deal, as he had learned to 
cook and do a little house work during my mother’s protracted 
illness, but the responsibility fell on me and a hard life I had of 
it. Here I remained, unable to go to school, and the only edu- 
cation I got was what I learned at home during the busy hours 
of the long, long days. Finally one of my sisters grew large 
enough to help ^ne, and I began to perfect myself in the art of 
cooking, and to learn how to prepare all sorts of fancy dishes. 
My sister became a teacher, and so I was still compelled to spend 
the greater part of my life in the kitchen. Still I would have my 
spelling-book and my reader before me and managed to learn a 
little of arithmetic and geography. One day however I met a 
young man who seemed to me to possess every admirable trait 
of which the genus homo is capable. He seemed to take an 
equal liking to me, and the consequence was that one beautiful 
winter night, as we were coming home from church, he asked me 
to be his wife. I accepted and one balmy morning in early June, 
the old house looked its gayest, for my sister had added a few 
graceful touches here and there, and all over the house were 
scattered bunches of old-fashioned flowers. I could not afford a 
fashionable wedding, and my dress was a plain white swiss. My 
only ornament was a bunch of old-fashioned white blossoms 
gathered from the rose bush down by the gate. But I was 


22 


happy and my future seemed to be one of ceaseless pleasure. My 
young lover came at the appointed time, and in the old parlor 
where I had come so often to weep and pray, I was now married 
to John Howard. He kissed me so proudly, and I felt so brave 
and strong and happy when I leaned on his manly arm, that I 
imagined I should never be sad again. We lived in a little cot- 
tage by the road-side, and John went away each morning to his 
work leaving a warm kiss on my lips and a kind word in my ear. 
A year rolled by, a year whose happiness can never come back to 
me, and then a little child came into our home — a darling baby 
boy, the very image of his father. And then we were happier 
than ever. I had a companion to share my bliss while my loved 
one was away. But one spring my beloved husband began to 
grow pale and wan. He grew steadily worse and one June day, 
a twin to the one on which he called me wife, he left me. Oh, 
God, can I ever forget that day, I wept and like Rachel ‘refused 
to be comforted.’ Several months passed, but the shadow grew 
only deeper. I could not become reconciled, but I was com- 
pelled to forget my grief at last and make plans whereby I could 
support myself and child, for our little fortune was rapidly dwind- 
ling away, and within a year it would be gone. My sister wanted 
me to come home and take my old position as house-keeper, 
promising me, also, a reimbursement for my work. But the very 
sight of the old home was worm-wood to me. I could not go 
back; for there every tree in the old lawn, every stone in the 
gravel walk reminded me of him, for had not the former yielded a 
friendly shade for his wooing? And had not the latter brought a 
grateful sound to my ears when he walked upon them? Ah, no, 
to go back there would be beyond my feeble powers, feut on 
the other hand, what was I to do? I had never learned enough 
to teach; poor soul, I sadly needed to be taught myself, and 
gradually the thought grew upon me that I must be taught, but 
how and by whom? Would anybody in the great cold world 
care enough for a poor widowed thing like me to spend a 
moment upon her} No, I must work my own way, and this I 
resolved to do. With this purpose in view, I took the few dol- 
lars which still remained, and started for a neighboring city. 


*3 


Ever} r one ridiculed me, but I was determined. My little boy r 
Robert, went with me and after much difficulty I obtained a 
place as a cook. Here I earned a scanty livelihood for myself 
and my boy, but managed to save enough to clothe him and to 
buy ; a few books, with which I occupied every leisure moment, 
for I was determined to get an education. These books, of 
course, were primary in their nature, but I was obliged to begin, 
at the ‘foot of the ladder,’ in my educational undertakings. I 
lived this way for a year and was beginning to hope that I could 
keep my position until I had learned enough to obtain a more 
desirable place; but one morning my mistress told me that she 
could employ me no longer, as I was ‘always dczing over some 
old book, and reading and cooking were two separate and dis- 
tinct callings.’ So I was turned out into the wintry world, and 
that night I wandered the forsaken streets, carrying a precious 
burden wrapped up in an old shawl, without a friend in the 
whole town. ‘Oh, it was pityful, in the whole city-full,’ not one 
friendly door would have opened to me and my darling boy. So 
I walked to and fro, little knowing nor caring where, so that I 
kept awake and Robert was warm. Next day I bought a meagre 
breakfast at a cheap eating-house, and then we started out again. 

I went from house to house, with a strength born of despair and 
mother love, and finally just as evening was coming on, I secured 
a position as cook again. I told my story to the lady, who was 
truly worthy of the name, and her eyes filled with tears while I 
spoke. She took my baby in her own arms and soothed and 
comforted the poor little fellow, while I prepared the evening 
meal. I remained with her for some time, and still clung to my 
spelling book and reader. I had confided my plans to my 
mistress, and she did all she could to help me, and finally obtained 
a position for me as cook in the family of a professor. This 
gentleman gave me private instruction in different studies; and I 
was allowed to study a certain number of hours each day. This 
plan suited me exactly, and I was almost happy again. Robert 
grew strong and healthy, and by and by when he was six years 
old I started him to school. In these five years of work in the 
city, I had been very economical and at last a few hundred del- 


H 


lars were in my possession. One day I told the professor that I 
desired to enter the college where he taught, and told him that I 
was willing to do as much work as I could to pay the board oi 
myself and my boy, and besides to pay for my tuition. The pro- 
fessor had one of those warm throbbing human hearts which beat 
for all the world, and when I told him my plans, he took me by 
the hand, and looking into my face with those great soulful eyes 
which are now closed to earthly scenes, he told me that aside 
from a few light tasks which he would set for me about his 
household, I should have no work to do, and that I could devote 
myself entirely to my lessons, and after I had finished my college 
course and secured a good position, I could then repay him for 
the loan, for I was too proud to accept this tuition gratis. My 
boy attended the public schools, and in the evening we were 
generally busy with our books in the little room furnished us by 
the professor’s wife. I worked my way through college, and one 
June morning, I graduated and received my diploma. That fact 
alone would have made me very happy, but I had also received a 
few days previous a certificate to teach and an appointment to 
one of the lower departments in the college. I am still a teacher 
there, and my boy? Would you like to know where be is today? 
He is attending college in a distant city and expects to enter the 
ministry in a few years.” Some one ventured to applaud this 
last statement, and instantly the whole audience clapped their 
hands in approbation. The lady blushed and looked downward, 
and then alter a few other remarks continued as follow s : 

“I have told you the story of my life to show you that it is 
never too late to learn, and that even a married woman may go 
to school although she had no opportunities in her youth. 

“In my work among the girls, I take great pleasure in study- 
ing them, for if the ‘proper study of mankind is man,’ the proper 
study of womankind is certainly woman. I like to see the bright 
faces of the girls, as they are about their studies or at their 
amusements, and as I often sit and watch them, I find myself 
wondering what will be their future. If I could mold their 
lives for them, I should be tempted to allow no clouds to cross 
their pathways, not even a ripple of sorrow to trouble the placid 


*5 


waters, but dear girls, there are very few of us whose ex- 
istence is not filled with disappointments, and in whose moral 
atmosphere there is not always a storm for every cloudless 
day, and we must prepare for the future shadows. I feel deeply 
the loss of my youthful vigor and wish I could have it back 
again, if by so doing I could make a brighter student and a bet- 
ter woman. But I did not have the advantages that the most of 
you have. I was compelled to learn in mature womanhood what 
you can learn now, but I will cease to make comparisons. 

“Now, girls, I am not acquainted with any of you, but I do 
know this, that you are all dear to me because you are girls and 
because very soon you will be women, and I am a woman wor- 
shipper. I admire a girl’s bright eyes, her silvery voice, her 
graceful carriage, her bouyant mind and her ability to work. 
But above all else, I admire a noble ambition — an ambition which 
compels her to rise above the mediocre and urges her onwaid 
and upward toward a noble womanhood. There is a great deal 
of pleasure in society, and for those who can afford it, it is a most 
excellent and commendable thing to mingle with associates in 
the social circle, but alas for the girl who makes her social life 
her only life; alas also for her who has been taught that marriage 
is the paradise for which she must strive, and that toward the 
attainment of this elysium she must sacrifice all other ambitions 
that might tend to interfere with it. Now girls, I want to assure 
you that I am not one of those women who speak of a man as 
the}" would of a poisonous reptile and who denounce the other 
sex in terms neither respectful nor lady-like. No indeed, I 
honor manhood wherever it is found, and in urging girls to be 
independent, I cast no reflections whatever upon their fathers and 
brothers. But, girls, while it is very nice to think of ourselves as 
beautiful flowers to be taken care of by a tender, indulgent hus- 
band, yet we must remember that whether we marry or not, we 
shall have cares and responsibilities that no one can share. 
Therefore I admonish you to prepare for the future. There is 
the girl who dwadles through life, She seems to have no other 
ambition than to ‘eat, drink and be merry.’ If she talks, her con- 
versation is generally about her dress, her neighbors, or the last 


26 


ball. In society she is pleasant and loquacious when the conver- 
sation is upon Some frivolous subject, but should it turn to some- 
thing useful or to literature she is as silent as the Sphinx. At 
home she lounges about, reading the latest dime novels, and very 
likely munching sweet-meats at the same time, thus ruining 
stomach, eye-sight, and brain at the same time. She is a total 
stranger in the kitchen, and her room, unless her mother is in- 
dulgent enough to put it to rights for her, is untidy to the last 
degree. The fact is she is lazy. -And why is she lazy? The 
truth is she has no ambition. That is the sum and substance of 
the whole matter. Such a girl is not necessarily a bad girl, she 
only needs something or somebody to push her. Now, there are 
thousands of girls like this in the world, and I venture to say that 
if questioned they would one and all complain that they were not 
happy. I hope I am not addressing any one of this nature, 
but if I should be, let me say to you that you can be 
noble women and a credit to society, if you will only muster up 
what ‘pluck’ you find lurking around in the cob-webs of your 
brain, and say to yourself from this day, ‘I am going to do some- 
thing.’ Then decide what your work shall be, and go at it with 
a vim. If your mission is to remain at home, do so, and make a 
study of house-keeping. Even though your tasks be of the most 
humble nature, have method in your work and it will not be in 
vain. But if your calling is teaching, be a teacher. If you are 
a rich girl and do not know what to do with your money, set 
your wits to work, and I think you will soon find a better way of 
disposing of your time, talents, and money than you have done 
heretofore. There are more avenues open to women now than 
ever before. The business world has opened its doors to us, and 
in almost every office in the country, the hand of woman may be 
seen, doing efficient work, at small pay, it is true, but that draw- 
back is only for the present. Time will help the ‘little women,’ 
and by and by their work will bring as large returns as that of 
their brothers. There are not so many professional woman as 
there might be, but every year the number is increasing. 
Women lawyers, teachers, architects, musicians, doctors, etc. 
While I admire all of these women, I think that I honor the 


27 


physician most, for a woman can understand and sympathize 
with a woman so much better than a man can, and while all 
praise and honor is due to our male physicians, I only suggest 
that we have an equal chance. Now it may be that some 
among you today have a faculty for law or a talent for medicine, 
and I ask you as a favor to think over this matter seriously, 
prayerfully, and if you have no ambition, no aim in life, let this 
day decide what you will do and then, as I said before, do it. 

“Now I am fond of hearing young ladies give their ex- 
periences upon these lines, and I will take great pleasure in 
listening for a few moments to any of you who would like to 
speak. The time is now yours, but before closing, let me sug- 
gest that you take this stanza of Tennyson’s home with you and 
make it the standard of your lives.” 

“Howe’er it be, it seems to me 
’Tis only noble to be good, 

Kind hearts are more than coronets 
And simple faith than Norman blood.” 

¥ 

For a moment silence fell upon the little assembly, and then 
one by one the girls began to speak. Such bright, cheerful, 
hopeful speeches, I wish I could hear them again. And finally 
Margaret, who was trembling with suppressed emotion, rose and 
said, “Madame, allow me to thank you heartily for that lecture. 
It has caused me to decide upon my calling in life. Recently I 
fell heir to a small fortune, and I have now decided to spend it 
in obtaining a medical education. I shall not hope to grow rich 
thereby. I only care to earn a living, and the rest shall be spent 
for the furtherance of the interests of poor and unfortunate 
women. The ‘die is cast,’ I shall be a physician.” 

I will not now stop to give an account of Margaret’s conver- 
sation with the lecturer whose exultant, happy tones came back to 
me even now, but beg you to go with me as I am carried swiftly 
along by Margaret on her return to her home. As soon as she 
entered, she sought her mother and dropping almost breathless at 
her side, commenced to tell her story, and this is the very abrupt 
way in which she began, “Mamma, I know what I am going to do 
with my money!” “Well, Margie,” said Mrs. Howe, smiling, 


28 


‘let’s hear the decision. Are we to have a mansion on Fifth 
Avenue or a dry goods store on Wall street?” Margaret seeing 
that her mother evidently thought she was joking, assumed so 
grave an air and assured her so positively that she was really in 
deep earnest, that her mother’s face became attentive at once, 
and she leaned back in her arm chair prepared for anything; and 
thus Margaret spoke, ‘.‘mamma, I have been thinking seriously of 
late of the best way to use my money, and the lecture I have 
just heard has caused me to decide.” Here Margaret related such 
parts of the lecture as she thought best, and then ended her little 
oration by saying, ‘‘and when she ceased speaking, I rose and 
told her that ‘the die was cast,’ and so it is, and with your per- 
mission, mamma, I am going to be a physician. We can move to 
New York City, and I can attend the Medical college there, and 
when I have finished, I can make a living for us both. I do not 
expect to make a fortune, for I intend to do all I can for poor 
girls and women who are not able to pay a physician. I feel that 
this is the mission for which I am fitted, and I am eager to begin 
my studies at once.” As Margaret paused, her face all aglow 
with zeal for the new cause, Mrs. Howe hesitated a moment, but 
being a careful little mother, she could not help pointing out to 
her daughter the trials and dangers of the course she was about 
to pursue, but Margaret could not be persuaded to give up her 
plans, and her mother at last acquiesced in them. 

********** 

I did not remain in Margaret’s possession long after this, for 
one day she carried me down town, and, stopping at a fruit deal- 
er’s, she spent me for some fruit. Dear little girl, how I hated to 
hear her walk away, believing as I did, that in all probability, I 
should never fall into her hands again, but I bore her monogram 
and that in itself was a comfort. 


CHAPTER IV. 

ON THE MARKET. 

To relate all my experiences during the two years following 
the one in which I became the property of the fruit dealer, 
would plunge me into a series of anecdotes so great in number 
that in size, my autobiography would rival the Encyclopedia 
Brittanica. 

I shall not, therefore, mention severally the many odd ex- 
periences of those twenty-four months, but only strive to give 
you some idea as to the character of my wanderings. 

After leaving the hands of the fruit dealer, I made a pretty 
thorough tour of the town, thanks to the unconscious kindness 
of my many masters; but I was destined for a season to be “a 
wanderer upon the face of the earth,” and in a few weeks I had 
been transported from a quiet New England hamlet to the shores 
of the Golden Gate. This journey was made, to be sure, in 
many different purses and gave me abundant opportunity for 
studying man-kind for whose special convenience we dollars are 
created. I also caught numerous glimpses of the beautiful coun- 
try through which we passed. And while I have since seen the 
most famous places in Europe, I can still say, as I did then, that 
in America, nature seems to have delighted in producing 
diversified effects. For the lover of mountain fastnesses, she has 
reared the two great mountain systems, one in the East and the 
other in the West, and spread around them the wild, sylvan 
beauty which delights the eye; for the lover of river scenery, she 
has, like a great, good-natured spider, spun a vast web whose 
every thread is a river; for the lover of high-lands she has fash- 
ioned a home; for the man who loves the peaceful breezes of a 
fertile valley, she has created shady nooks and verdant valleys 
even at the very feet of the mountain ranges. In fact the natural 


advantages of our own America compare favorably indeed with 
those of any other country. For this reason, as well as others, I 
take infinite pride and satisfaction in knowing that I bear upon 
my face the insignia of the United States ol America. 

But I have been digressing. To return to myself, I can 
truthfuly say that the thunderous echoes of the fabled nine-pins 
had scarcely died away among the nooks and crannies of the 
Catskill mountains, as I was carried through these wilds by a 
romatic adventurer, when I was thrust into the pocket of 
a western tourist, and traveled in his possession toward the set- 
ting sun. Strange indeed to relate I remained with this gentle- 
man till the snow-capped summits of the Rockies rose in 
majestic splendor before my view. I had an opportunity to see 
these beauties of nature, for even among these mountains, the 
tourist finds himself compelled to open his purse and pay 
for every trivial service. My master’s necessity was my oppor- 
tunity, and that I availed myself of my chance is evidenced by 
the fact that I can write my autobiography in the manner I am 
adopting. 

For six or seven months I was a resident of, or more 
properly speaking, a wanderer in the state of California. I was 
delighted w^ith the sight of its lucious fruit, its rare flowers, and 
its mammoth trees, and was rapidly becoming acclimated (if 
such an expression can be tolerated from such a cosmopolitan as 
myself) when I was carried on board a train by a lady whose 
destination was Utah. In that country where Brigham Young 
led his peaceful life in the bosom of his little family, I remained 
for many days, and was actually carried into the town from 
wdience the silver ore out of which I was formed was taken 
several years before. But just as I was congratulating myself up- 
on having reached this town, I was again carried aboard a train, 
and my next glimpse at the outside world disclosed the plains of 
Montana. 

And so I became a mere feather on the wind of fortune, now 
blown swiftly, fiercely forward, now laid softly down in some 
quiet corner, only to be hurried from my retreat by a furious 
gale or an idle zephyr. During those years in which I gained my 


experience of the world, I purchased happiness for many; but 
thinking of myself in the way the Scriptures look at money, I 
could not help acknowledging that I was one of the off-shoots of 
the great root of all evil, for men have lost honor and women 
virtue to obtain me; and once within their possession, I was 
heartlessly exchanged by the one for that which is not bread, or 
by the other for the gaudy finery which neither giveth pleasure 
nor addeth beauty. But on the other hand, I had many happy 
experiences, for again and again 1 have been spent in a righteous 
cause, and when I have become a medium of virtuous happiness, 
I have congratulated myself upon the consciousness that even 
while it was my fate to be the property of the unjust as well as 
the just, I could bring pleasure and happiness to worthy hearts 
and homes. 

During those two years of active service, I felt the hard 
rough grasp of the miser, the charitable hand of the philan- 
thropist, the soft dimpled fingers of childhood, the rash, loose 
grasp of youth, and the fipn, but not unyielding pressure of age, 
and I could truly say with Shakespeare’s Iago that I had been 
“slave to thousands.” 

You will, therefore, not be surprised when I -tell you that at 
the end of two years I had been carried into almost* every state 
in the Union; but one autumn night when the rain was coming 
down in torrents, the wind howling dismally among the naked 
trees, and the lightening dancing across the sky, I was lost by a 
drunken reveller and fell into a large puddle of muddy water. I 
sank to the bottom, and the fair face of Liberty was besmirched 
in such a manner as ill became that honored virgin, while the 
wings of the eagle were so bedraggled that I heartily pitied the 
noble bird. 

But morning brought relief, for I was noticed by a young 
man crossing the street, and having fished me out of the water, 
he wiped the mire from the brow of the goddess and relieved the 
proud eagle from his humiliating plight. 

The young man’s face wore a puzzled expression and he ex- 
amined me very closely. It was evident that he had noticed the 


3 * 


monogram upon my face, and he seemed to make a mental reso- 
lution of some nature. He almost looked me out of countenance 
before he resigned me to the inmost recesses of his capacious 
purse. Then he turned down a street and entered the halls of 
the college, and thus I learned that my new master was a stu- 
dent. He studied diligently all afternoon and late into the night, 
but the dozen strokes of the college clock warned him to retire. 
This he did, but before retiring he showed me to his room mate, 
who had also been up late at his books, and told him where he 
found me. They made many surmises as to how those initials 
happened to be upon my face. “At any rate,” said Clarence 
Urban, my new master, “I’ll keep it for a pocket piece, for it’s 
certainly very odd.” So my fate was decided, and I have never 
regretted the accident which made me the pocket piece of 
Clarence Urban. 

Next morning the young men awoke with the dawn, and as 
they are taking a last peep at their text books before going to the 
recitation room, I will try to describe them to you; for as Miss 
Alcott says in her immortal “Little Women,” “Young readers like 
to know how people look,” and while she makes use of the adjec- 
tive young, I think that all readers have the same weakness. 

Clarence Urban’s surroundings when we left him at the 
Mint have already been described, but I have waited u'ntil the 
present moment to give you a sketch of his personal appearance. 
He was a tall, well-proportioned young fellow, with the muscles 
of a Hercules and the brow of an Apollo. His face was a noble 
one. An olive complexion relieved by a black mustache and 
very expressive brown eyes made Clarence Urban an enviable 
target for Cupid’s darts, but so far he had been proof against 
these missiles, and seemed to be entirely wrapped up in his col- 
lege work and in his room mate, whom I will now introduce to 
you as a delicate young man of twenty-three, Robert Howard by 
name. He was not so strong physically as his friend, and his 
form was too fragile for a man’s. His hair rivalled the raven’s 
plumage in its glossy blackness, and his eyes were black 
diamonds. His smooth, classic features showed traces of unre- 
mitting study. Altogether he did not deceive his looks. He was 


33 

a hard student, but happy withal, and many a pleasant 
hour these two yo J ung fellows spent in their room or elsewhere, 
for they were almost insepaiable. My master was kind hearted 
and liberal to a fault, and did not love a joke that was too practi- 
cal to be considered a joke by the one on whom it was played, 
but in all the innocent school boy “larks” he took a lively part. 
One day I remember that Clarence and some companions de- 
cided to play a trick upon the professor of Natural History. 
Procuring several kinds of bugs, they fastened the head of one to 
the body of another; then the legs of a third bug supplied the 
places of those of the one that was being “doctored,” and so on 
until a bug like the one they carried in to the professor was 
never seen in “the heavens above or on the earth beneath.” Now 
the professor was a near sighted man, and Clarence being the 
spokes-man of the crowd, walked gravely into his presence, and 
handing him the manufactured bug said very respectfully, 
“What sort of bug is this, professor?” The professor held it very 
close to his little gray eyes, and after affecting embarrassment for 
a time, said with a long-draw face/ “Why, why, I should say, 
young gentlemen, that this bug is a ‘hum-bug’.” Clarence and 
his friends were too mortified to laugh, but Clarence, disdaining 
to acknowledge a defeat so decisive and so apparent, bowed re- 
spectly to the professor and walked out of the rocm. The yells 
of laughter mingled with indignation rather belied his dignified 
exit, but I could picture to myself the professor’s satisfaction 
after the boys had departed. I have related this little incident to 
show you that Clarence was a very human fellow and liked a 
little nonsense as well as any of the boys. He was taking the 
Classical Course preparatory to a foreign tour, as his father had 
long promised him the trip. Robert Howard was taking a theo- 
logical course, and working his way through school. He taught 
several branches, and thus paid his tuition. Clarence had liked 
him from the first, and they had now been chums for the last three 
years and expected to graduate in the spring. They were a great 
deal to one another— those two young men, for the wealthy one 
often gave the poor one a tip in a financial way, and Howard 
returned the favor by helping Urban spiritually. They were 


34 


both book-worms. The time for commencement was drawing 
near, and examinations loomed omniously in the distance. The 
two young men did not have much time for society now, and 
almost every midnight found them at their books. Howard was 
a poet, and the professors had requested that his commence- 
ment address be in poetic form. Urban was a born orator, and 
the subject of his address was to be Our Country. These facts 
I gleaned from their conversations. 

But while serious thoughts occupied the greater part of their 
time and attention, the old school boy love of fun would intrude 
itself occasionally upon their deeper musings. 

One morning Clarence and Robert went together to the 
chapel for prayers. Both of the boys knew that some fun was on 
hand, but they were not apprised of its character. They soon 
learned the nature of the joke, however, for tied to the professor’s 
chair was a large sized goose, and the boys were awaiting in sup- 
pressed excitement the arrival of Dr. B . Urban and How- 

ard entered and quietly taking seats waited with as much amuse- 
ment as the others. Soon the familiar foot-fall was heard, and 
the professor entered. He proceeded toward his chair as usual, 
but noticing it already occupied, he remarked very quietly, “I 
see you are very well served, young gentlemen, very well 
served,” and turning quickly on his heel left the chapel, and 
again the boys experienced a humiliating defeat, and as far as I 
know, Clarence never participated in anything of the kind there- 
after. 

Now, as before mentioned, commencement was drawing 
near, and mingled with the thoughts of oration and poem, there 
came to Robert Howard’s mind doubts as to whether he would be 
able to purchase a new suit for the momentous affair. “True,” 
as he remarked to Urban, “my old one is not so very shabby, but 
it’s not new, you know.” Clarence replied, “No, that’s true,” very 
mechanically, but while his tones were not sympathetic his heart 
was. He was planning how he could help his friend and not 
offend his pride. To offer him the money would be out of the 
question, and might break up their friendship altogether, for 
Robert possessed that bug-bear to poetic minds, a very sensative 


nature, so Clarence did the only thing he could do then — viz 
nothing. But when about a week before commencement, he re- 
ceived from home a beautiful broadcloth dress suit, with a hand- 
some white tie, a diamond stud in a snowy shirt front, and every- 
thing complete, he examined them admiringly, but put them 
away saying, half aloud, “I’ll do it, though father a*d mother 
look icicles at me during all the exercises.” Now I had not the 
slightest idea what he meant by these strange remarks, but 
awaited developments. Graduation Day dawned bright and 
beautiful, and while Howard’s poem was excellent, having been 
approved and applauded by all the teachers, he felt and looked 
unhappy. “What is the matter, Howard, you look rather crest- 
fallen for a fellow who is honored as being the poet of the 
class?” Poor Howard could not control the trembling in his 
voice, when he said, “It’s all very nice to brag on a fellow’s 
paper, but it’s pretty bad to have to wear an old rusty coat and 
‘shiny trousers, when all the other fellows have brand new ones 
and will look as though they have veritably ‘stepped out of a 
band-box’.” Clarence simply said, .“I am sorry for you, Rob, but 
don’t worry about it, you know ‘what can’t be cured, must be en- 
dured’.” As the time drew near for the carriages to call, How- 
ard rose reluctantly and brushed his raven locks, and adjusted 
his snowy tie. He did not say much, but finally exclaimed, 
“Why Urban, where’s your new suit ? You’d better hurry or you 
will be late. Why it’s only ten minutes until the carriage will be 
here.” Then Clarence placed his hand on his friend’s arm and 
said, “Rob, I am rich, and people will expect me to dress 
fashionably. Now Howard you have done me more good than 
any one I ever met, you have made a man out of me, and for 
your sake I wear this suit. The crowd will stare at me and in 
their surprise will quite forget you, for they know our circum- 
stances and expect more of me.” I wish I could bring before 
you a picture of Howard’s face, so pleased, so surprised, and so 
grateful he was, that he threw both arms around Urban’s neck 
and wept copiously. Urban would not permit this, however, as 
he did not want Howard’s eyes to look red and swollen when he 
“spoke his piece.” So Urban went to the commencement in 


id 


his old suit, and both young men were happy. As Urban 
carried me as a pocket piece, I went to the commencement also. 
The scene was a familiar one, the “sweet girl graduates” in their 
pretty gowns, the flowers, and the music lent a charm to the 
place that can only be appreciated by participation. After the 
exercises %rere over the parents and friends of the graduates 
thronged about them with congratulations. Clarence greeted his 
father and mother very cordially, but I heard them ask him al- 
most the first thing why he did not wear his handsome suit. To 
which inquiry he whispered, “I’ll tell you later, but in the mean 
time allow me to introduce to you, mamma, my best friend and 
room mate, Mr. Howard.” The ceremony of introduction being 
over, they all repaired to a fashionable hotel where the elder Ur- 
bans were stopping, and of course Howard accompanied them. 
At dinner the merits of the orations were discussed, and many 
pleasant topics touched upon until Howard was quite at his ease. 
Mr. and Mrs. Urban began to understand why Clarence admired 
the pale yoilng ecclesiastic so much. After dinner Clarence saw 
that his belongings were all placed in the vehicle which was to 
convey them to the station, and then he and Robert had a long 
farewell talk. Robert was to remain at the college for some 
weeks, and was then to take charge of a congregation. His last 
words to Clarence were, “I shall never forget this day, Clarence, 
for owing to your kindness, I was saved from the most humilia- 
ting of experiences.” Clarence pressed his hand in silence, and 
then boarded the train with his parents, who gave Robert a cor- 
dial invitation to visit them. After the Urbans had entered the 
train which was to bear them homeward, Mrs. Urban again 
asked Clarence why he appeared in his old suit instead of the ap- 
propriate one she had taken such pleasure in buying. Then 
Clarence poured forth his little story with such gentle pathos 
that tears stood in his mother’s eyes, and she said very low and 
sweet, “That was right, Clarence, and I’m glad you did it;” but 
Mr. Urban seemed displeased though he said nothing. However 
the trip was a pleasant one. When they alighted from the coach 
a colored servant accosted them and escorted them to a hand- 
some carriage. Entering this they were driven swiftly away. 


37 


On the outskirts of the city they entered the massive iron gates 
of the Urban premises. The park was extensive, and well kept, 
the gravel walks were shaded by the leafy arches of the graceful 
trees. The grass was fresh mown and velvety, and flowers 
freighted the air with their perfume. A fountain lifted its rain- 
bow spray in the center of the lawn, and the picture reminded 
one of fairy land. Especially was this true on account of the 
occasional glimpses of the gray stone mansion in the distance. 
All the way up the gravel drive Clarence expressed his satis- 
faction and delight at the improvements that had been made in 
his absence. Soon the entrance of the house came in sight, 
and he scarcely waited for the carriage to stop, before he sprang 
to the ground and ran up the marble steps. However he waited 
for his parents and they all entered together. 

From subsequent glimpses I obtained of the Urban mansion, 
I am now able to give you some idea of its magnificence. The 
floor of the hall was composed of black and white marble blocks, 

. highly polished and very beautiful. All along this hall were 
doors leading into richly furnished apartments. But when 
Clarence entered his home, he did not pause here, but hastened 
along the hall until he came to a massive staircase, built of 
antique oak, and richly carved. This he ascended, and hurrying 
along the upper hall, which was similar to the one just men- 
tioned, except that it was covered with velvet carpet, he entered 
his own room. At the entrance he gave an unconscious excla- 
mition of surprise, for it had been newly furnished and every- 
thing was in the best of order. He entered and sank into the 
depths of a crimson velvet chair, quite overcome with the ex- 
ertions of the. previous day and the excitement of the morning. 
While he sat there he took out his purse, and in looking through 
it, happened to notice me. He took me in his hand and again 
scrutinized the initials upon my face, and while he held me thus, 

I took a survey of the room. It was a large airy apartment with 
a double bay window in front. Before this window were hung ex- 
quisite lace draperies. The furniture was of oak and the bed was 
hung with silken curtains. Over the magnificent mantel hung 
a life-sized portrait of his mother, and on the mantel several rare 




vases ahd articles of bric-a-brac Were artistically arranged. 

In an alcove of the room were his books in an elegant case 
half co ncealed by silken curtains. Sleepy-hollow chairs were 
scattered carelessly about the room, and altogether the room was 
in perfect keeping with its handsome occupant. But even 
amidst all this beauty he murmered half audibly, “It’s all beauti- 
ful, but I’m so lonesome without Howard. He was my inspira- 
tion, my solace, my own true friend. How can I go abroad and 
see all the beauty of the Orient and leave him to work his life out 
at that college.” He sat studying deeply for a few moments, 
then jumping up as if suddenly inspired, he paced the room ner- 
vously exclaiming “I’ll do it, by George, I will, and then my 
journey will be a thoroughly happy one.” With this exclamation 
he threw his purse unclosed upon the bed, and began to prepare 
for dinner; and as his mother had told him that some guests were 
expected, he arrayed himseif as became the occasion, and when 
he had finished and surveyed himself in the long French glass 
mirror, I thought to myself, if I were a man, I would be another 
Urban, but being only a silver dollar, I was proud to be his 
pocket piece. After a few moments spent in putting the last 
touches to his immaculate attire, he closed his purse and putting 
it into his pocket descended to the drawing room. Here he was 
greeted with delighted exclamations from the lips of several 
young ladies; and if Clarence Urban had not been sensible as 
well as handsome, he would certainly have been badly spoiled. 
I shall not attempt to describe the details of the dinner, nor the 
several events of the next few weeks. I learned very shortly 
after my entrance into the Urban home that the first week of 
June had been set for the departure of Clarence. One day dur- 
ing a talk between father, mother and son, Clarence made known 
to them a darling plan which he had cherished for some days. 
What he said was substantially this. He requested that he might 
be allowed to take with him his old college mate, Robert How- 
ard. “It will be the very making of Rob mentally and physi- 
cally, for he is sadly in need of a change, poor fellow, and the aid 
he would acquire mentally would help him beyond measure. I 
am willing to pay his expenses for I know his company will be 


39 


invaluable.” Now Mr. Urban was proud of his handsome son, 
but his was that false pride that leadeth to destruction. He 
wanted his boy to shine and desired him to choose his compan- 
ions among the rich and the great. He had never approved of 
the friendship between his son and young Howard, but held his 
peace until the present moment. But now “fierce he broke 
forth,” “What, do you wish that miserable pauper to go with you 
on your European trip? I believe in philanthropy, but really 
Clarence this is too much. Why not choose some man of your 
own rank, one whose father can count his thousands as yours 
can? Such a youth would indeed be a worthy companion of our 
Clarence, but this fellow with whom you would share your good 
fortune, and even pay his expenses, has no standing whatever in 
the financial world, and is certainly not your equal in any re- 
spect.” At the beginning of this unexpected harangue Clar- 
ence’s brown eyes opened wide with astonishment, but surprise 
soon changed to anger, and by the time his father had finished, 
Clarence’s face was white and set, and his eyes were dangerous to 
behold. In spite of his manful efforts not to upbraid his father, 
his intense love for Robert proved too much for him, and he re- 
sented the insult to his friend with emphasis. Then remember- 
ing his mother’s presence, he lowered his voice and speaking in 
subdued, but angry tones, he pleaded his cause so eloquently to 
his father that Mr. Urban, much against his will, was obliged to 
give his consent. Clarence forgave him on the spot, for even a 
reluctant promise of this kind was better than none. Hastily ex- 
cusing himself, he fairly flew up the broad staircase and seeking 
his own room secured writing material, and the sound of the pen 
fairly racing aver the paper was all that could be heard for some 
minutes. He then rang for a servant and when the maid ap- 
peared dispatched her at once for his mother. Mrs. Urban 
was not long in answering the summons, and Clarence pushing a 
chair towards her,. begged her to listen while he read the letter 
he had just written. 


40 




New York, May 15, 18 — 

My Dear Rob: — 

Since my return from college, I have been busily engaged 
in preparations for my trip. Everything is being done for me, 
but all along I have felt that I cannot enjoy myself alone, and 
the only companion with whom I could be happy is you, my dear 
fellow, and therefore I write you today to offer you a free trip to 
Europe and back, if you will only go with me. You will be con- 
ferring a great favor upon me by accepting this invitation at 
once. Don’t be proud and imagine you are accepting charity. 
My motives are not philanthropic but selfish. The truth is I 
can’t go without you. I await your reply with anxiety, and shall 
expect an answer by return mail. Remember , no excuse will be 
accepted. 

Your old friend, 

Clarence Urban. 

When Clarence finished reading, he asked his mother’s 
opinion of the letter, and she told him that he could not have ex- 
pressed it more delicately. Then drawing Clarence to her kissed 
him tenderly, saying, “My precious boy, what a treasure you are! 
What a consolation to me. God has certainly been very good to 
me to give such a son. May your whole life be filled with deeds 
like this, and may I always have cause to be proud of my precious 
boy.” And so she would have gone on had not the modest heart 
of the young man told him not to listen to the fond emulation of 
this indulgent little mother. He interrupted her, saying, “now 
mamma, don’t spoil me with so much flattery. Why, in my de- 
sire to have Rob with me I am just as selfish as I can be. The 
truth is I feel so dependent upon him, that it would give me no 
pleasure to go without him. He has make a Christian out of 
me, and I want his help all the time to keep me in the rightway.” 
This was evidently the first time he had spoken to his mother 
of his new life, for she looked up in glad surprise as he said 
these words, and then said reverently, “my prayers are answered. 
My boy is a Christian, and next to God I have to thank that 
noble young Howard.” Thus mother and son sat together in 
sweet contentment, the dark head leaning protectingly over the 



4i 

silvery one, and the strong young arm thrown lovingly around 
the drooping shoulders. The dinner bell broke in upon their 
reveries like an unwelcome guest, and quickly sealing and stamp- 
ing his letter, Clarence offered his arm to his mother and they 
descended the stairway together. Clarence paused a moment to 
hand his letter to a servant with directions that it be mailed at 
once, and then mother and son proceeded to the dining room. 

^ ^ ^ > 1 < 

A few days later Clarence read the following letter to his 
mother : 

My Dear Urban: — 

Would that I could fittingly express my feelings upon read- 
ing your letter. I have always hoped to go to Europe sometime, 
but little dreamed that I was so soon to see the fruition of my 
cherished hopes. How truly a friend you are, Urban ! I should 
hesitate to accept this invitation did I not know you so well, but 
from you I am proud to accept a gift which I can never repay. 
My mother is in Vienna. She sailed about a year ago as 
chaperon to a young lady who is a medical student there. I am 
not acquainted with her, but it will be so delightful to meet 
mamma over there. I am in raptures Clarence, and you are 
the happy cause. I will write you soon again, but in the mean 
time accept my most cordial thanks for your lion-hearted lib- 
erality. 

Good-bye, and God bless you. 

Sincerely 

Robert Howard. 

Mrs. Urban liked the letter very much, and thus it was all 
settled. The sixth of June was fixed upon as the time of de- 
parture, and from that time forward all was bustle and confusion. 

Once when driving with his mother Clarence opened his 
purse for some reason and in so doing noticed me, and pointing 
to the initials upon my face said, “mamma here is a dollar I found 
one morning while at school, and the odd part of it is that it has 
somebody’s monogram engraved upon it. I think the letters are 
M. H. It struck me as being odd, and I have carried it ever 


42 


since as a pocket piece.” Mrs. Howard looked at me carefully 
and told Clarence to keep me for “good luck.” Clarence 
promised to do so, and so my fate was settled. When Clarence 
and his mother reached home he found a letter informing him 
that his friend would be with him the following day. The meet- 
ing of the friends was of the most cordial nature, but not of suffi- 
cient importance to describe in detail As Robert had never 
been in New York City, the few days which still remained before 
they were to take their departure were occupied in visiting the 
places of interest in the great American Metropolis. 

At last the day arrived and both Mr. and Mrs. Urban ac- 
companied the young men to the dock. Mr. Urban was the same 
as usual — calm, dignified, self-possessed, and shook hands with 
Clarence as carelessly as though he were going to see him again in 
a week’s time. On the other hand Mrs. Urban endeavored in 
vain to restrain her tears. But the hour for farewells had now 
arrived, and a few moments only remained before the time set for 
the departure of the vessel. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE VOYAGE. 

Mr. and Mrs. Urban accompanied the boys on board the ves- 
sel and saw their state room, which was a very cosy apartment ; 
and Clarence said that he did not believe the voyage such a 
dreadful thing as he had always imagined would be. Soon 
the ringing of a bell warned those who were not going out to 
leave the vessel, and in a few moments Clarence had seen the 
last of his parents, and at first felt rather blue; but Robert cheered 
him up by mentioning the wonderful sights they were to see on the 
other side, and by the time the vessel had reached the open sea, 
the young men were intensely interested in everything pertaining 
to their temporary home. 

A ship is a world in itself, and the people are not long in 
becoming acquainted. So very soon Clarence and Robert had 
made the acquaintaince of some very pleasant young ladies and 
some intelligent gentlemen, from whom they learned much in 
regard to the customs of the people across the sea. The vessel 
upon which they had taken passage was an English ship. In the 
course of a few hours the young men began to notice each other, 
and Clarence said to Robert, “Rob, what on earth is the matter? 
You are as pale as a sheet.” To which Rob replied in making a 
similar remark in regard to Clarence. At first they were some- 
what surprised, but soon discovered that these were the signs by 
which Neptune was reminding them that he was inexorable in his 
demands for homage, and they were soon obliged to render him a 
reluctant offering. Being independent to the back-bone, this 
assumption of power upon the part of the old sea god ruffled 
their spirits considerably and rendered them decidedly sea sick. 
Both declared that they wished they had never started and re- 
paired to the state room in high dudgeon. Here they remained 


44 


for hours, and even the supper bell failed to awaken any life in 
them. After the first day or two out they became accustomed to 
their new surroundings and were sick no more during the voyage 
and soon Robert began to wax poetical; but at the end the fourth 
day the sea began to grow rough, and the vessel was tossed to and 
fro like a mere toy. A dreadful storm followed soon after, but as 
Howard told the story in rhyme, and read it aloud to his fellow 
passengers just as Ireland came in sight, I will give you the poem 
instead of telling it in my own prosy prose. 


“Our vessel is a floating isle 

By steam’s enchantress moved along, 

A world sufficient in itself, 

Unfettered, buoyant, brave and strong. 

The transient dwellers on our isle 
Were strangers ere we put to sea, 

But now as friends we recognise 
A common bond — humanity. 


Last eve the murky clouds hung low 
And hid the heavens from our sight 
The lanterns on the silent deck 

Threw out a strange, unearthly light. 

Cold breathed Boreas stalked the wave, 
Bach step a dreadful tremor caused 
Until he reached the trembling ship 
He did not slack his pace nor pause. 


And we, poor creatures of the earth, 
Prayed to the Lord of Gallilee, 
But added ‘If it be Thy will 
Bor us to die, so let it be.’ 


The waves, by fierce Boreas lashed 

Reared snowy heads above the mast, 

And now his hoarse, demoniac laugh 
Rose mockingly upon the blast. 

And joining in the frightful mirth 

Thor raised his thunderous voice on high, 
And zig-zag gleams of awful light 
Held carnival throughout the sky. 


Our captain’s sea-bronzed face grew white 
As foam upon the billows tossed, 

And from his pallid, bloodless lips 

We heard him mutter, ‘We are lost.’ 

But as the echoes of his voice 

Grew faint and slowly died away, 

We saw a glimpse of faint gray light 
Betokening the birth of day. 

The ocean still in frantic throes 

Was roaring loudly ’round the ship 
And every moment now we thought 
That Of her cargo it would strip. 

In dread suspense we watched and prayed 

And watched the waves all capped with foam, 
And then at last Boreas turned 

And slowly sought his northern home. 

And then we dropped upon our knees 

And thanked the Eord of wind and wave, 
Because from wat’ry, woeful graves, 

He in his mercy chose to save. 

And now we’re drawing near the port, 

The Emerald Isle before us lies, 

Her fields are green, her flowers are bright 
And azure are the summer skies. 


We soon shall leave our transient home 
On earth perhaps to never meet, 

But let us hope that by and by, 

With voice ecstatic we shall greet 

Each other in the heavenly port 

Toward 'which we’re sailing o’er life’s sea, 
And when she lands, I hope that all 
Of us upon her deck may be.” 


Before going ashore the young men exchanged their money 
for foreign coins, and I was in terror lest I shall be exchanged 
with the rest of Urban’s money and thus Jose my golden or rather 
my silvern opportunity of visiting the countries we were now rap- 
idly approaching. But when Urban took the money out of his 


46 


purse, he looked at me and then put me back, saying, “I guess 1*11 
not part with this dollar ; I’ve kept it so long for a pocket piece, 
that I do not care to lose it.” So back I went into his purse with 
shillings, florins, sixpence, pennies, half-pennies, etc., and hence- 
forth the fortunes of my master and myself are so closely allied 
that in giving my own history I shall be under the pleasant neces- 
sity of relating the greater part of his ; but as he was a very enter- 
taining young gentleman, and as we visited almost every point 
of interest in the British Isles and on the Continent, perhaps the 
story of our mutual adventures will not prove quite so foreign 
to my theme as 3^011 may now suppose. 


CHAPTER VI. 

“THE EMERALD ISLE." 

With the exception of the fear occasioned by the storm, tht 
voyage was a pleasant one; but it was with a sense of relief that 
my master and his friend caught sight of the distant shores of 
Ireland. 

The steamer’s destination was Queenstown, and here they 
first set foot upon the shores of the old world. 

There being nothing of importance or of peculiar interest 
here, we hastened on to Cork. A very short ride brought us to 
that city, and after leaving the train, the young men were be- 
seiged by a , band of individuals whom in America they would 
have called “cabbies,” but who in Ireland are known as the 
drivers of jaunting cars, and these vehicles lined the street for a 
long distance. 

The jaunting car is a distinctly Irish convej^ance and is seen 
no place else excepting on that island. It is a two-wheeled affair, 
and the seats hang over the wheels. Those who ride on them do 
not face the front of the vehicle but their faces are toward the 
sides, and their feet are just above the wheels. The driver 
assumes a position similar to our own drivers, having a separate 
seat in front of the car. Clarence and Robert secured one of 
these vehicles, and being warned of these drivers, before leaving 
home, they made the bargain with him before starting, thus giving 
me an opportunity to see the queer little carriage just described. 

They were driven to the Victoria Hotel and secured pleasant 
rooms for the night. Next morning they strolled through the 
streets of Cork, but did not find much to please them. It being 
strawberry time they purchased a basket of this fruit, and when 
eating it, Clarence laughingly remarked that it was the first time 
in his life he ever made “two bites out of one strawberry.” 


Next morning Clarence and Robert determined to visit Blar- 
ney Castle. Consequently they inquired of their host which 
would be the best way to reach the castle. Having his own pe- 
culiar reasons (which it is needless to say were of a mercenary 
nature) for so doing, he recommended a carriage. Being 
ignorant of the city, they were about to take his advice, when an 
American who was also stopping at the Victoria and who had 
heard their conversation, called Clarence aside and informed him 
that it was not necessary to go to the expense of a carriage, as 
there was a tram-way not far distant over which they could ride 
comfortably and cheaply to the castle. Thanking the man for 
this friendly “tip,” the young men started in quest of the tram- 
way, the terminus of which was not far distant. Entering a 
car they seated themselves, and as they were not very talkative 
during the ride, I judged that there was nothing of particular 
interest to be seen along the way. But when the old castle rose 
before them, they were talkative enough. From their remarks 
and from a glimpse I had of it when Clarence opened his purse at 
one time, I learned that Blarney Castle is a square stone pile 
about eighty feet high whose moss grown walls are occasionally 
pierced by small irregular windows. A battlement surmounts 
the tower, which is supported by small buttresses placed at regu- 
lar intervals. Between two of these is the famous Blarney stone, 
made prominent by two iron bars attached to it, both on the in- 
side and out. When Clarence and Robert entered the castle they 
came into an open court and ascended a stairway. When they 
arrived at the top, they found the space around the walls was 
about six feet wide, and at the edge of this and a little below it 
was the Blarney stone. The two young men submitted to being 
held by the heels and the small of their backs while kissing the 
famous stone. Both seemed very much elated, and Robert said 
that he trusted his future congregations would be kept awake by 
the eloquence which he had no doubt he should now possess, for 
“you know,” he continued, “the old Irish poet, Father Trout, 
says — 

‘There’s a stone there that who-e’er kisses. 

Sure, he never misses, 

To become eloquent,’ 


49 


And who would dare doubt the truth of the old Irish stanza here 
upon the Emerald Isle and in plain view of the stone itself?” 
“Who indeed ?’ said Clarence, and so they started back to Cork 
with light hearts and merry jests. 

After returning to Cork, they gathered together their few be- 
longings and hastened on to Bantry, a small country town, whose 
houses are very low, and whose general appearance is anything 
but inviting. But at that time the annual cattle market was in 
progress, and this was of interest to my master and his friend 
simply because it was a novelty. A large hollow square was re- 
served for the Fair and this was crowded to its utmost limits 
with cows, sheep and pigs. As Clarence and Robert were com- 
pelled to pass through this market to reach their hotel, they 
soon found that looking at the market from the outside and 
passing through it in a carriage were two separate and dis- 
tinct pursuits and they were glad indeed when they were safely 
through it. In Bantry they remained but a short time and 
then took a conveyance called a “diligence” to Glengariff. I 
would have given anything to have been permitted to see the 
beauties of nature which spread themselves out in panoramic 
array all along the road, but not once during the journej^ did I 
get a peep outside of Urban’s pocket. I, however, had several 
glimpses of Glengariff itself, for Clarence was called upon not 
infrequently to relieve me of my English monetary companions. 

Glengariff is not a town but a site, and takes its name from a 
ravine over which a stream falls into the bay. 

Reaching there in the evening, the young men sought lodg- 
ing at one of the hotels, which was really the most important in- 
stitution of the place. Deciding upon one of these as their 
transient home, they retired for the night. The next morning 
they walked out a little distance from Glengariff to see the ruins 
of Cromwell’s Bridge. When they came in sight of the de- 
molished bridge so noted for its wild picturesqueness, Robert 
said, “Do you know why this is called ‘Cromwell’s Bridge’?” To 
which Urban replied, “Haven’t the slightest idea. Do you 
know?” “Yes” replied Robert, “I have read that when Crom- 
well passed here in 1649, he found that the natives of the place 


had torn down the bridge which crossed the Canrooska, in 
anticipation of his coming. This roused his ire to blood heat and 
he ordered them to rebuild the bridge and added by way of in- 
centive that he would ‘hang one for every hour of delay.’ These 
ruins,” continued Robert, “are a silent evidence of the fact that 
his orders were carried out, for as I have read somewhere the 
country people .said ‘they knew the old rascal was good at keep- 
ing his word’.” “How interesting that is,” exclaimed Clarence, 
“and what a romantic old spot it is to be sure. See that rugged 
tree yonder spreading its delicate branches out like a lady’s fan, 
and note what a perfect reflection the water gives of the emerald 
beauty all around. By George, Rob, for once I envy you your 
gift at rhyming, but as I can’t compose poetry, I’m going to do 
something I can do naturally and that is take a wade in this 
water.” That Robert was also in favor of the diversion was evi- 
denced by the fact that Clarence hardly preceded him a half min- 
ute in getting off his shoes and wading in the water. For half an 
hour the young men were boys again and splashed around 
deliciously in the cool water, and then they returned to terra 
firma, and putting on their shoes returned to Glengariff and 
civilization. The afternoon was spent in-doors because of a 
heavy rain storm, and the time was employed in letter writing. 

Next morning they secured a jaunting-car and drove all 
around Ford Kenmare’s place. The drive was three miles in 
length and was shaded the whole way by the umbrageous 
branches of graceful trees. Many beautiful things were seen by 
my master and his friend among which was Muckross Abbey — a 
sombre looking old pile, half hidden by the glossy ivy, and an 
ideal old place for a romantic loving nature like Howard’s. They 
did not explore the “hidden recesses” but were content to view 
the exterior. 

Farther on the “Meeting of the Waters” filled them with de- 
light. At that point three streams unite and flow away to. the 
sea. A rustic bridge spans the waters at their junction, and on 
either side the banks are covered with a rich luxuriance of 
shrubs and grasses. The graceful branches touched the water 
here and there and seemed like sylvan faries leaning over to catch 




sight of their reflections in the watery mirror below. 

As they drove on they soon came to a wooden door which 
they were informed was the entrance to The Tore Falls, called 
“wonderful” by their Irish guide. Being deeply impressed by 
his flowery descriptions of the “thundering waters,” they de- 
scended from the car, and paying the door keeper a sixpence, 
they entered the enclosure. 

For some time they wandered about, neither seeing norhear- 
ing anything of the cataract, but finally Clarence, who led the 
way, discovered a very scanty stream of water slowly trickling 
over some rocks, making about as much noise as a tea kettle, and 
these the guide informed them were the Tore Falls. 

At first they stood in silence as though deeply impressed by 
the marvelous sight, and then with a sarcastic smile, Clarence ex- 
claimed “Is that all?” The guide exhibited extreme surprise and 
chagrin at the lack of sensibility manifested by my master, and 
was further discomfitted by hearing them both burst into such a 
hearty laugh that he feared hysterics would result. Finally 
Clarence acknowledged to Rob in a whisper that they were 
“sold,” and both returned to the jaunting car and their journey 
with a very high opinion Irish blarney. 

After returning from the drive, they ate dinner and retired 
early. Next morning they took a coach for Killarney. This 
town is situated about a mile from the northern shore of Loch 
Leane, which is the southmost of the three lakes of Killarney. It 
is five and a half miles long and three wide at the broadest point. 
Connected with it by two narrow straits is Lake Tore or Muck- 
ross, and west of this is the Upper Lake two and one half miles 
long by one and one-half broad. The boys remained among 
these lakes for some days. One delightful feature of this trip was 
a boat ride on the Upper Lake, which they considered the most 
beautiful of the three. When Clarence took out a shilling to pay 
the boat-man I had an opportunity of judging for myself of the 
truth of the statements the young men made in regard to the 
lovliness all about them, and I am sure that it would be far be- 
yond the limits of the vocabulary of a silver dollar even to 
approach to an adequate description of the Lakes of Killarney. 


Robert remarked that the limpid lakes spread out before 
them suggested to him the thought that they were the mirrors of 
the giants (the mountains) who surrounded them like soldiers on 
every side, and the banks suggested emerald frames, quaintly 
carved by the artistic hand of nature. 

Clarence has since declared in my presence that the lakes of 
Killarney, are in his opinion, the most beautiful in the world. 
The boys were annoyed by beggars of all ages, and very often 
Clarence opened his purse during their trip through the lakes, 
much to my delight (for at these times I always got a peep of the 
scenes outside) but he did not seem so pleased, for he opened his 
wallet more reluctantly every time. 

From Killarney Robert and Clarence went to Dublin. After 
securing rooms at a hotel the boys began to talk over the best 
course of proceeding for the few days they had alloted to the Irish 
capital. “Suppose,” said Clarence, “that we visit Phoenix Park 
tomorrow.” Robert approved of the plan and accordingly the 
next day found them in Phoenix Park which they reached by 
means of a carriage. 

They took a lunch with them and made a long day of it. 
Phoenix Park contains over 17,000 acres of land, and possesses 
rare and exquisite beauty. Great elms rear their majestic trunks 
and form shady nooks and delightful picnic grounds for the never 
ceasing throng of visitors who enter its gates. Golden eyed 
daisies smile from the velvety green here and there, and deer 
roam at will through the splendid, undulating meadows. 

It is, aside from being a pasture or a flower garden, a mili- 
tary training ground where the soldiers drill. Besides the regu- 
lar soldiers, a number of Scotch soldiers are kept here at all 
times. The uniforms of the Scotchmen are wonderful to behold. 

They appear bare-kneed, with red and black stockings rolled 
back half way up their legs, white cloth gaiters, fastened by 
streamers of red woolen ribbon; a plaited kilt or skirt of blue and 
green tartan, blue cap with’ heron’s wing, white shoulder straps, a 
pouch of goatskin and undress jacket of white cloth. For full 
dress they wear a scarlet jacket with yellow collar. The checked 
plaid is fastened cros.s-wi.se over the shoulder and falls behind, 


53 


being secured on top by a brooch of the national emblem — the 
thistle. 

Clarence and Robert were much amused at these last troops 
on account of the gaiety of their attire, and wondered how they 
would look in time of war, but as they turned to go back to the 
hotel, Clarence remarked that he would much prefer to see a 
company of our own boys in blue, and I thought so too, for as I 
carry the American eagle with me always, I could scarcely fail to 
be true to the country over which that noble bird spreads its 
wings so proudly. 

Again at the hotel the boys discussed the events of the day, 
and it is from their conversation that I gleaned the few facts I 
have given you in regard to Phoenix Park. 

St. Patrick’s church was visited next morning. Here lie the 
remains of Dean Swift who wrote his own epitaph — “Ubi saeva 
indignatio ulterius cor lacerare nequit.” (‘‘Where the fierce hatred 
of another can not wound the heart.”) 

By the side of Swift’s tomb there hangs a marble tablet in- 
scribed to the memory of Miss Hester Johnson whom he calls 
“Stella” in his writings. My master lingered long before these 
tombs, and then passed on to view a statue of St. Patrick in an 
obscure corner and other things of lesser note. 

After leaving St. Patrick’s they repaired to the Church of 
Christ where many interesting relics were seen. Robert re- 
marked as they were passing through this church that he wished 
the Archbishop of Dublin, after the reformation, had not robbed 
it of the many interesting and valuable relics then within its 
walls. “What were they?” asked Clarence, who was already con- 
gratulating himself upon having such a well read companion as 
Robert. “Well, I cannot tell you about all of them, but one thing 
I should have liked to have seen was the Baculum Jesu. This 
was a staff, set with precious stones, and which they claim was 
once the property of Jesus Christ, and while we of course do not 
credit the story, we may believe that it was carried by St. Patrick 
(as his followers relate) during his many wanderings. This and 
other relics were burned, however; and there is not much of in- 
terest here now for me,” concluded Robert. “Thanks, old boy,” 


54 


exclaimed Clarence heartily, “I told you it was selfishness upon 
my part that led me to ask you to come with me, and now you 
see that I spoke the truth. You are a regular walking encyclo- 
pedia, an animated unabridged dictionary, a ” “There, let up 

a little, will you,” expostulated Robert. “It’s almost lunch time 
and we had better make the best of our way back to the hotel." 
All the way from St. Patrick to Christ church the boys alter- 
nately uttered exclamations of mingled pity, surprise, and disgust 
at the almost indescribable squalor they be held onevery hand, 
and hidden as I was in the inmost recesses of Urban’s pocket, 
there reached me at intervals odors that, to say the least, I was 
uncomfortably conscious did not come from the spicy heart of a 
damask rose. 

Clarence wrote that night to his mother, and afterwards read 
his letter aloud to Robert, and this is what he told her about that 
street, “Why, mamma, they actually offer meat for sale that a re- 
spectable dog in America would refuse. I never saw such filth 
and wretchedness in all my life. The woman are the most pitable 
and disgusting looking creatures I ever saw. None of them wear 
clothes that were made for them, and as for cleanliness — ye gods! 
A laundry man would be compelled to make an assignment if he 
had the courage to begin business. 

Flower girls there are in plenty, but the flowers they offer 
have long since lost both their fragrance and their beauty, but as 
open begging is forbidden this is the covert way in which they do 
it. Of course no one cares for the flowers, but these girls will fol- 
low you and give you no peace until you toss them a penny, or 
more if you feel so inclined. I confess that I didn’t.”' 

With this extract from Clarence’s letter, we will bid farewell 
to “dirty Dublin,” and hasten on to Belfast. 

We reached this city by means of a steam railway. Robert 
was especially desirous of seeing Belfast, for it was the battle- 
ground of Catholicism and Protestantism, and he wanted to learn 
all he could about the two factions, but I am not prepared to tell 
you his peculiar cullings in that direction. I did not see much of 
the city but what I did see, was sufficient to convince me that 
Clarence and Robert were wholly justified in their remarks in 


55 


favor of Belfast in comparison with Dublin. The streets of the 
former city are broad and clean and its shops are inviting in their 
appearance. Its houses are brick covered with stucco, and the 
windows instead of being hung with old petticoats as they were 
in Dublin, are shaded by handsome Venetian blinds. These pre- 
vent you from viewing the interiors which the boys discovered by 
occasional cautious peeps through door-ways, were well kept and 
cosy. 

“Belfast” remarked Clarence to Robert, “is noted, is it not, 
as being a very religious town?” “Yes,” answered Robert, “and 
so it is in outward appearances at least, and at all events it is 
rather more pious than Dublin.” At this bit of sarcasm both 
laughed heartily and entered a handsome shop where Clarence 
purchased a dozen linen handkerchiefs for his mother, for which 
he paid the modest sum of ten shillings. Robert looked at the 
beautiful kerchiefs admiringly and then a wistful look came into 
his eyes, but he said nothing. Clarence who could read the 
thoughts of his friend like the pages of an open book, knew at 
once that he was wishing that he could buy a similar gift for 
his mother. And turning to the shop keeper, he remarked that 
he “believed he would take another dozen just like the first.” 
After leaving the shop, he gave one package to Robert saying, 
“Send that to your mother with my compliments.” Robert 
thanked Clarence very kindly, but the look in his eyes spoke 
thanks more eloquent than ever his tongue could utter. 

In looking over their route that night Clarence remarked 
that the “Giants’ Causeway” was the next point of interest, For 
this point we started next morning taking the steam cars as far 
as Port Rush, which is the terminus of that mode of travel. 
There they boarded the electric car which runs between Port 
Rush and the Causeway. I will now describe the Causeway to 
you as well as I can from glances snatched at intervals. 

Before reaching the Causeway we passed Dunlace Castle, 
situated far above and with one room hanging over the sea. Its 
appearance is stern and severe. The block of basalt upon which 
it is erected rises almost perpendicularly a hundred feet above 
the sea. Robert made voluminous verses upon this castle, but as 


5 ^ 


they failed to charm even the indulgent ear of Clarence, I shall 
not venture to inflict them upon you. After passing Dunlace, 
the sea is lost to sight, and shortly after two hotels came in sight. 
We we now at the Causeway. A short distance from the hotels, 
we entered a little boat in the creek Portnabo. The boatmen 
kept up an incessant chatter' and told innumerable stories con- 
nected with the place. It would be neither pleasant nor profitable 
to describe at length or in detail the various points of interest to 
be seen at the Giants’ Causeway, but I shall mention one or two 
experiences. We first entered the cave of Dunkerry. The open- 
ing of this cave is a perfect arch and the interior is dark and dis- 
mal. It is six hundred feet long and ninety-five feet high. But 
while it was all very curious and interesting, Clarence declared 
that he never was so glad to get out of any place in his life. The 
Causeway received its name from a tradition which is to the 
effect that in the days of old the Giants desired to go across to 
Fingall’s Cave and decided to bridge the narrow strait by means 
of solid stone columns fitted compactly into each other. The 
guide told the boys that for some reason or other the old Titans 
got tired of the job but this was the work they had commenced. 
Three tongues of rock extend out into the water known respect- 
ively as the Small, the Middle, and the Grand Causeways. At 
one place the rocks resemble the pipes of an immense organ, and 
hence the group has been fancifully named the “Giants’ Organ.” 
Another formation is known as the “Honey Comb.” The columns 
become gradually shorter and finally form an inclined pavement 
which extends to the water’s edge. The heads of these five, six 
and seven sided columns fit so closely into each other as to form 
a compact pavement. 

In this vicinity Clarence and Robert sat in the wishing chair 
or Ladies’ chair, and made three wishes which their guide told 
them would be “sure to come true.” Three old women infest this 
spot, who have all manner of wares for sale, and to stop their 
chatter Clarence purchased some cheap trinkets, and it was when 
he paid for these that I caught a glimpse of the chair, the seat of 
which is curiously formed out of one of the rocks while several 
others a little taller form the back and sides. 


57 


These are only a few of the sights to be seen at this place, 
but it would be unbecoming in me, a silver dollar, to endeavor to 
describe this spot which men and women have made famous with 
their pens. 

Robert, however, was more presumptuous than myself and 
composed a few stanzas about the Causeway which I shall take 
the liberty of inserting at this point. 

“ ‘THE GIANTS’ CAUSEWAY.’ 

See yonder mass of columned stone, 

So like an organ that we list 
To hear a loud and thunderous peal 

Roll upward with the morning mist. 

And see the Honey Comb hard by, 

Where Titan bees their sweets distilled, 

And where, perchance, those ponderous men 
Their mammoth bowls with honey filled. 

And half concealed by broken rocks 

The Wishing Chair falls on my view, 

Where all who think of wishes three 

Feel certain that they will ‘come true.’ 

But while we like the fancied tale 
Of giants who to cross the wave, 

Built up this Causeway strong and wide 
By which to cross to Fingall’s Cave, 

Still we, who of a smaller race, 

Have learned from Nature’s open book. 

Beyond the mythic tales of old 
Adown the centuries may look 
And see in yonder pillared mass 
The handiwork of Nature there, 

And glimpses of the dark blue sea 
But make the picture doubly fair. 

And when from Nature we have learned 
That ’tis her work we now behold 
We Tind a more enchanting tale 
Than of the Titan men of old. 

We know the iridescent hu£s 

Which make the picture nobly grand 
Are touches of Dame Nature’s brush 
And fashioned by her graceful hand. 

And when on Nature’s work we gaze, 

From vaulted skies to fresh green sod, 

'Tis but a step to in it all 

Behold the ^vork of Nature’s God,” 


5 <? 


I now ask you to follow me as I am carried by my master 
back to Port Rush. 

Upon our arrival at the place, Robert found a letter from his 
mother and after reading it he told Clarence that she was very 
anxious for them to come direct to Vienna, and added by way of 
postscript, “I have as handsome a young lady under my care as 
two young fellows like you and Clarence should care to meet. 
Come and see us as soon as you can.” 

“Well,” said Clarence, “that is a good prospect for a fellow 
who is love-sick, but as for me, I have never had the fever.” Rcb 
said nothing but bit his lip thoughfully and looked at a photo 
which he carried in his pocket. Whose it was I do not know, I 
only know he looked at it because Clarence made a remark about 
it. “Well, after all” said Urban, “it will probably be best to make 
a bee line for Vienna. What do you say old fellow?” It is need- 
less to say that Robert was delighted, for he was his mother’s 
boy still, though twenty-five years had changed the dcrk eyed 
boy into a thoughtful man, and the trip he was now enjoying so 
much, was fast changing the sallow tinge of his complexion into 
a ruddy glow. So it was decided that ere many moons had 
waxed and waned that Robert should see his mother, and Clarence 
would — but I must not anticipate. 

That afternoon found us en route for Londonderry, for which 
port the boys had decided to sail for Glasgow. They desired to 
visit what was to be seen here, and among other places visited 
was the Cathedral of Derry. “What do you know about this 
place, Howard?” asked Clarence, as they entered the door over 
which is a large organ finely carved. “Well, I know that the 
wood out of which this organ is made is said to have been taken 
from the Armada wrecks. I also have read somewhere that 
London established the Cathedral here in 1633, and this is about 
all I do know about it.” They ascended the stair-case that leads 
into the tower, and the whole city lay at their feet. Besides hav- 
ing this view of the city, the wide stretch of surrounding county 
made a pretty frame for the picture, and altogether, as Robert re- 
marked when they again reached terra firma, “they were amply 
repaid for the tiresome climb.” This being a large manufacturing 


59 


city, and Clarence being a prospective manufacturer, he visited 
the numerous factories found in Londonderry,, the most extensive, 
perhaps, being a shirt factory. Robert, who knew about manu- 
facturing enterprises as he did about Sanskrit, did not enjoy the 
tour very much, and could not for the life of him, he said, under- 
stand what a stove manufacturer could learn in a shirt factory. 
Nevertheless, Clarence exhibited a lively interest in the ingenious 
knives for cutting out collars, cuffs, etc., and in the enormous 
sewing machines, and I became very curious to see them, never 
having seen any manufacturing done since I was in the Mint, 
and then I was being manufactured myself. 

However, he did not, wonderful to relate, have occasion to 
open his purse during the visit, and therefore I am wholly unable 
to describe the appearance of the machines. 

That day was our last on the Emerald Isle, and in the even- 
ing we sailed for Glasgow. 


CHAPTER VII. 

SCOTLAND. 


After sailing all night the boys reached Glasgow just as the 
sun was rising and the prospect was far from an unpleasant one. 
Robert was so deeply impressed with the beautiful morning, 
that he wove the thoughts which came to him into the following 
verses: 

“SUNRISE. 

The deep dyed curtain of the night 
Is slowly, softly rising now, 

And gladsome gleams of golden light 
Gild yonder mountain’s dusky brow. 

Aurora’s robe is purple hued 

With cloudy ermine richly trimmed, 

She serves the sweet ambrosial food 
In crystal goblets, golden rimmed. 

Sol’s couriers climb the eastern skies 
In brilliant liv’ry gaily dressed, 

Their blazing banners put to shame 
The modest azure of the west. 

The stellar jewels of the night 

Before the dawn have paled away, 

And earth upon her bosom wears, 

The dewdrop diamonds of day. 

The ruby roses raise their heads, 

The lilies hold their stems erect, 

The pansies for the coming fete 

In royal robes are richly decked. 

The robin’s slender, flute-like throat 
Is filled with music, wildly gay — 

A fitting bugle to proclaim 

The coming of the king of day. 

All wait the advent of the king 

Whose chariot may be seen afar, 

And lo, above the eastern hills, 

Behold the sun’s triumphal car.’’ 


6i 


Glasgow, being a large manufacturing city, Clarence was 
particularly interested in it, but an account of his visits to the 
different manufactories would scarcely prove entertaining. 

I will, on the other hand, mention one or two of the places 
visited by my master and Robert. The most important relic of 
antiquity in Glasgow is the Cathedral, but as Robert said, “it has 
been patched up so that there is scarcely anything left of the 
original structure. It is a very handsome building neverthe- 
less, and the stained glass windows are magnificent. 

Another place visited was the Necropolis, or cemetery, 
where Robert especially was greatly interested in the monument 
erected to John Knox, the great preacher of the Reformation. 
“What a fine view of the city we have,’’ exclaimed Clarence, as 
he gazed down from the city of the dead over the homes of the 
living. After enjoying the prospect for some time, they returned 
to the city proper and made their arrangements to start next 
morning for Balloch. 

They reached this station by train, and from thence they 
went by boat to Loch Lomond. My master enjoyed the trip to the 
utmost and was continually crying out — “Look there, Rob, isn’t 
that fine? I wonder what the history of that place is,” and Rob- 
ert seemed equally delighted. I caught several glimpses of the 
beautiful lake and the pretty islands past which the boat glided, 
among which were Inchmurrin, a beautiful wooded isle, Torrich, 
and Inch Calliach (the Isle of Women) and many others. 

The boat then crossed to Ludd, where, and making a short 
stop, it started out again, recrossing the water and landing at 
Rowandennan. Here the boys disembarked and started to visit 
Ben Lomond whose lofty summit towers 3192 feet above the level 
of the lake. They took ponies at the hotel, and from joint re- 
marks, I judged that they enjoyed the four mile canter to its 
fullest extent. When at length they gained the summit of Ben 
Lomond their delight was boundless. Immediately before them 
spread the beautiful country scenery, and beyond the blue waters 
of Loch Lomond melted into the blue of the sky so naturally that 
the line of meeting was scarcely perceptible. A short time only 
had been allotted to Ben Lomond, and before either of the boys 


62 


were aware, the moments had passed and their guide warned 
them that they must go. So again mounting the ponies they re- 
turned to Rowandennan and boarded the vessel. As they sailed 
out from the pier they cast longing, loving, lingering looks in the 
direction of Ben Lomond. Too soon, however, the -peak became 
lost to sight and the boat glided swiftly onward. At one place a 
little cove attracted the attention of the passengers, because of its 
peculiar beauty and also on account of its suggestive name, “Rob 
Roy’s Prison.” A little boat lay idly at its moorings and alto- 
gether, as one of the lady passengers expressed it, “it was just too 
pretty for any use.” After a while the boat landed at a point 
called Inversnaid and the boys left the vessel and started by 
coach for Loch Katrine. This loch is much smaller than Loch 
Lomond, but it is very beautiful and especially attractive 
because of the glamour of poetry thrown over it by the great 
Scotch writer, Walter Scott. In his “Lady of the Lake” he 
mentions “Ellen’s Isle,” which is a thickly wooded island, look- 
ing, to use a Robertism, “like a beautiful emerald in a sapphire 
setting.” 

By a succession of boats and coaches we arrived at length at 
Calendar, after having passed through, as both* Clarence and Rob- 
ert declared “one of the most beautiful stretches of country they 
ever. expected to see.” 

But come with me as I am carried on board the train bound 
for Stirling, for as Robert was very anxious to see his mother, 
they did not tarry long now at any place. Consequently the 
Trossachs are left behind, and we are in Stirling. Clarence re- 
marked when starting out next morning that there really 
was nothing of very great importance to see excepting the castle, 
and after due consideration, they concluded to visit it and 
then push on to Edinburgh. To the castle they accordingly 
went, and from its lofty battlements obtained a magnificent 
view of the surrounding country. Both boys were familiar with 
Jane Porter’s “Scottish Chiefs” and talked of Wallace and Lady 
Helen during their entire stay at the castle. The guide took 
them from room to room, relating the history of each as they 
passed through it. In one of these rooms, known as the Doug- 


las Room, the Earl of Douglas was stabbed by Janies II. But as 
Robert declared in a letter to his mother, “The apartments 
and their furniture would scarcely be entertaining to one who 
has never seen them. To appreciate and enjoy such buildings 
as Stirling Castle, one must enter its dark gray walls, ascend for 
himself the long stair way, and with his own eyes behold its grim 
and ghostly relics.” 

On leaving the castle Rob gave a little start of surprise, and 
catching Clarence’s arm pointed across the street to a large statue 
of William Wallace. This was a treat they had not looked for 
and both examined the statue very carefully, and left it with re- 
luctance, but time flies even in such enchanting places, and night 
soon came on reminding the boys that they must retire if they 
would be “up with the larks.” 

The Edinburgh train next day carried two young Americans 
whose faces showed eager interest in everything about them, and 
as they neared Edinburgh Robert repeated those well-known 
lines of Burns, 

“Edina ! Scotia’s darling seat. 

All hail thy palaces and towers.” 

Once ill Edinburgh, their first care was to secure a coach for 
Roslin Chapel. This done they settled down for a drive of about 
an hour and a half, and the carriage Was soon rolling leisurely 
away in the direction of Roslin Chapel. They enjoyed the drive 
the more intensely because of the delightful contrast between this 
mode of travel and the closely crowded train. Arriving at Roslin 
Chapel they alighted and entered. “This,” remarked the guide, 
“is the most' complete little chapel that was ever built.” “Yes,” 
responded Robert, “I have read of the several incidents that oc- 
curred during its construction. Roslin, you know,” continued 
Robert, “desired the columns to be entirely different from any he 
had ever seen, and in pursuance of this plan, he sent his head 
workman to gather designs, but during his absence one of the 
apprentices employed upon the building conceived of and erected 
a column whose peculiar symmetrical beauty so pleased Roslin 
that he accepted it.” Rob then requested the guide to point out 
“the ’Prentice’s Column.” This the man did with evident pride, 


6 4 


and finished the story of which Robert had only told a part, and 
acquainted the young men with the fact that the head workman 
whom Robert had mentioned, was dreadfully angry upon his re- 
turn because of the favor shown the apprentice and upon some 
charge or other he had the unfortunate ’prentice put to death. 
“That was a case” said Clarence, “where ignorance would have been 
bliss.” The guide also pointed out to them a head carved in the 
wall which tradition says is the memory of the pc or apprentice. 

The tour of the chapel completed, the young men returned 
to Edinburgh. Here they procured lunch and then started out 
again, this time to visit the Palace of Holyrood. Clarence pur- 
chased a little book entitled, “Guide to the Palace and Abbey of 
Holyrood,” and when he paid for it, I had a delicious peep at the 
castle itself. In front of it the feathery spray of a wonderful 
fountain sparkles in the sunlight and gives additional loveliness to 
the imposing scene. During their visit to the palace Robert dis- 
played such an extensive knowledge of its history that the guide 
asked him whether he was a resident of Edinburgh, and was ex- 
ceedingly surprised when Robert replied in the negative. Clar- 
ence once more congratulated himself upon his good fortune in 
having such a wise companion, for while he had read possibly as 
much as Robert, he could not remember half of it. They visited 
the Chapel Royal, and while within its walls Robert made the 
visit exceedingly entertaining to Clarence by bringing before his 
mind’s eye a picture of the unfortunate Mary, who entered the 
chapel years ago, attired in her sombre wedding dress of black, 
“which,” said Robert, “has always struck me as a baleful omen of 
her dark and dreary future with the man to whom she then gave 
her hand in marriage, the crafty, unprincipled Darnley.” As the 
words fell from Robert’s lips a silence came over the little group. 
The death-like stillness, however, was soon broken by the coarse 
voice of the guide who suggested that they “move on.” 

The picture gallery was of peculiar interest, and many and 
various were the impressions the portraits made upon the minds 
of the several guests. The gallery is a portion of Charles the 
Second’s Palace, and they learned from the little book purchased 
by my master that it is 150 feet long by 24 feet broad and its 


45 - 


height is 20 feet. Upon its walls are hung a hundred portraits of 
the real and reputed kings of the Scots. 

After leaving the gallery the guide escorted them through 
different apartments until they reached Queen Mary’s private 
stair which they ascended and turning to the right, entered the 
apartments of the Queen. 

They visited the guest chamber first, and it was with but 
little patience that I heard the guide point out those relics of 
antiquit5 T while I languished in the depths of Clarence’s pocket. 
However, not to seem selfish, I will at least mention to you some 
of the articles seen by Clarence and Robert. One of these was 
the bed of Charles the First, a magnificent piece of furniture, 
whose curtains of embossed velvet have been touched none too 
lightly by the hand of time. Several pictures adorn the walls, 
among which is one representing the Battle of Boyne, another de- 
lineates the features of Hortense Machini, niece of Cardinal 
Mazarin, and from a third frame the tender eyes of a Magdalen 
look down upon the visitor. The Bacchic Festival called forth a 
few lines from Rob which seemed to me to be rather inconsistent, 
a minister composing an ode to the jolly old god of the vine, but 
. being only a silver dollar my opinions are doubtless contrary to 
those of mortals. But to return to Holyrood, Queen Mary’s apart- 
ments, and my tale. The next room entered was the bed chamber of 
the Queen. The young men were particularly fascinated by the 
tapestry of this room upon which is cleverly wrought the scene 
portraying the fall of Phaeton, the moral of which I am inclined 
to think is applicable to human beings, if not to silver dollars, but 
I am digressing again, and my task is not half done. 

After leaving the bed chamber they were escorted through 
the Queen’s dressing room, whose tapestry is badly decayed, and 
entered what. the guide called the “Supping Room,” where, as 
Robert remarked, “Riccio, the secretary of Mary, was assaulted and 
stabbed by the jealous Darnley and his accomplices.” 

After visiting these rooms the young men descended to the 
ground floor and shortly after left the palace and returned to the 
Royal Hotel. That evening Robert and Clarence remained 
quietly in their rooms. Clarence sat by the open window for a 


66 


long time, gazing across the street at the magnificient monument 
erected there to the memory of Sir Walter Scott, and beyond it 
rose a lofty hill crowned by a stately castle. The whole scene 
was made weirdly beautiful by the cold white radiance of the ris- 
ing moon. “This is a scene,” said Robert, “that I shall never 
forget. How I wish mother was here to view its matchless 
beauty.” They then fell to talking of their mothers, and for the 
first time Robert told Clarence all about his early life, and about 
the heroic struggles of his mother. With these you are already 
familiar, for, as I learned then, and you will learn now, Robert 
Howard was none other than the son of the lady whose lecture I 
listened to while I was owned by Margaret Howe. Robert, how- 
ever, brought out the noble traits of her nature, told how as a 
pupil at the college she had been wounded almost to death by the 
stinging sarcasm of a youthful teacher who could not overlook 
the seemingly childish errors on the part of a married woman. 
And as he told the touching little story Clarence’s eyes were 
filled with tears of mingled pity and indignation. “But,” con- 
tinued Robert, in the quiet, reverential tones he always used 
when speaking of his mother, “While many women would have 
faltered under the arduous task, mamma was made of ‘sterner 
stuff’ and pushed gradually, steadily onward up the ladder of 
learning. I left her when I was about twenty years of age and 
went to the college where I met you a year later. I shall never 
forget the luminous smile on mother’s face when I told her that I 
had resolved to be a minister. It seemed that her joy was be- 
yond expression and she simply drew me to her breast and in- 
voked God’s blessing upon me, her only child. Oh Clarence, 
there are not many women like my mother.” “Few indeed,” 
said Clarence, for the story of the untiring efforts of Mrs. How- 
ard had found a sympathetic listener in him, who loved his own 
mother almost to adoration, but she had never known a care 
in her life, and loyal-hearted lad that he was, he chastised 
himself because when he compared the two women whose en- 
vironments had been so immeasurably different, he wondered 
whether his mother would have been equally as brave. Robert 
also told Clarence that his mother had formed the friendship of a 


brave young girl whom she had persuaded to become a physician, 
and that this same girl, an orphan, had offered to defray his 
mother’s expenses if she would accompany her to Vienna where 
they both were at that time, “and do you wonder now” said Rob- 
ert tremulously, “that I love my mother so much? Are you sur- 
prised that I idolize her?” “No” answered Clarence, “I do not, 
and I shall be only too happy to become another votary at her 
shrine. I wish Robert, that there were many more like her. A 
true, courageous, unflinching spirit like hers is a jewel of rare 
brilliancy. I am glad, Rob, that you, my dearest friend, had, dur- 
ing your infancy and boyhood, such a hand to guide you. No 

wonder you are so courageous, so intellectual, so good ” 

“There, there” expostulated Rob, “praise my mother all you like, L 
but please do not flatter her son, I am (to change that famous 
sentence of Virgil’s, which he put into the mouth of old Priam, 
the King of Troy, when he saw his own son cruelly murdered by 
the son of Achilles) the ‘unworthy son of an illustrious’ mother. 
But dear me, how mamma would frown if she knew how I have 
been expatiating upon her virtues, for really she seems to have 
no appreciation whatever of her own worth.” 

As it had now grown quite late the boys took one last, 
delicious look at the slumbering city of the Scots and then re- 
tired to rest. When morning dawned grey and misty, two youths 
in water-proof coats and hats, and each carrying that indispensible 
article, an umbrella, might have been seen wending their way 
toward the railroad station whence they started for Melrose, a 
town about thirty miles from Edinburgh. 

When the train pulled out the two young men were on 
board. Arrived at Melrose, they started at once to visit its 
famous Abbey. Here, within its historic walls, they staid a long 
time. When they reached the ruined Chancel the guide pointed 
out the place where the heart of Robert Bruce is buried. Robert 
Howard again displayed his knowledge of history by refreshing 
Clarence’s memory upon this point. “You know” he said “that 
before Bruce died he wrote a letter to his brother requesting that 
his heart should be buried in Melrose Abbey, but after that he 
chose rather to have it carried to Jerusalem. At the death of 


68 


Bruce, the burial of his heart was intrusted to Janies Douglas, 
who set sail with a grand retinue, but while passing through 
Spain he was encountered by the Saracens and killed. His body, 
together with the heart of Bruce, was recovered and the latter 
was buried there beneath the altar,” concluded Rob, as he 
pointed to the famous place. At a little distance a pile of rough 
stones were noticed, and the guard told them that it was on that 
spot that Sir Walter Scott sat when inspired to compose his 
beautiful poem, “The Lay of the Last Minstrel.” 

“I wish we could have come here by moonlight,” said Rob- 
ert, “They say that this is the only way to see the Abbey. Scott 
said of it, 

“ ‘The moon on the east oriel shone 
Through slender shafts of shapely stone. 

By foliaged tracery combined 

Thou would’st have thought some fairy’s hand 

’Twixt poplars straight the ozier wand 

In many a freakish knot had twined 

Then framed a spell when the work was done 

And changed the willow 7 wreaths to stone.’ ” 

<‘Yes,” said Clarence, “it would have been better, but you know 
the cause oi our haste.” “Yes,” responded Robert, “and even 
Melrose Abbey by moonlight is not a sufficient inducement to de- 
tain me in view of meeting mamma.” So saying they left the 
Abbey and returned to the hotel at Melrose. Here they ate 
lunch and then hired a little vehicle called a “trap,” and started in 
the direction of Abbottsford, once the palatial home of Sir Walter 
Scott. The glimpses caught of it from a distance were tantaliz- 
ingly delicious. Finally they reached the building and soon 
entered its magnificent walls. The entrance hall filled the boys 
with delight. Around its walls are hung all kinds of massive ar- 
mor, and the whole apartment is suggestive of the chivalric 
characters of Scott’s enchanting novels. The drawing room is 
richly furnished and above its fire place hangs a picture of Sir 
Walter and his grey hound, which Robert remarked has become 
famous as well for the skill of the artist as the celebrity of the 
subject. On one of the other walls is the picture of the lady who 
owns Abbottsford, and who the guide told them is a lineal de- 


6 9 


scendant of the illustrious founder. But from my own observa- 
tion, I think that the library where the author wrote a number of 
his books was the most interesting part of the building. The 
highly polished cabinet upon which stood a closed writing desk, 
was, of course, one of the principal attractions of the room, and 
the young men both seemed to think it would have been a great 
favor indeed to have sat in the large easy chair which was drawn 
up to this cabinet, for all the world as if Scott had just left it. 
But this boon was not granted them. Around the walls were the 
books of which the guide told them there were twenty thousand 
volumes. The dining room adjoins the library, but the door be- 
tween the two was closed, and we were not allowed to enter this 
apartment where Sir Walter breathed his last. 

In one part of Abbottsford my master saw and I heard 
described a glass case containing the la^c suit of clothes worn by 
Scott, and many other relics of the illustrious dead greeted the 
visitors on every side. “How I wish that he were still living and 
that we could see him coming down some of these long galleries 
to meet us, perchance with his favorite dog by his side,” said 
Robert. 

In the armory many quaint things were on exhibition which 
suggested the knights whom Scott brings before us so vividly in 
his novels. “What would I not give,” sighed Clarence, “if I 
could write an Ivanhoe or a Lady of the Lake.” 

But while they tarried longer here than was their custom to 
devote to one place, time sped on and they found that they must 
depart. So bidding farewell to Abbotsford they took a carriage 
for Dryburgh Abbey where the noble novelist now sleeps his 
last, long sleep. The Abbey, as I learned from the conversation 
of my master and Rob, was built in the twelfth and thirteenth 
centuries. It is now for the most part in ruins, but inexpressibly 
beautiful even in its decay, for the “vine still clings to the 
mouldering wall,” and the worst evidences of the ruthless hand of 
time are hidden by the glossy green of the ivy clambering over its 
ruins. 

At one side, which is probably better preserved than the rest, 
is an arched recess, protected from the public by iron gratings. 


7 ° 


Behind this lies the sarcophagus containing the dust of Sir Wal- 
ter Scott. While the young men pressed their faces against the 
bars, they maintained a respectful but almost oppressive silence 
which was broken by Robert who repeated the mournful cadence, 
“The paths of glory lead but to the grave.” The shadows of eve- 
ning were now falling, and the young men passed slowly down 
the gravel walk, re-entered the carriage, and returned to Melrose. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

ENGLAND. 

After taking our leave of Melrose, we crossed the border and 
entered the land of John Bull. Our first stop was at Keswick, 
but that town received but a fleeting visit and we soon entered 
the coach for Ambleside. “The drive from Keswick to Amble- 
side,” wrote Clarence to his mother, “was simply ‘lingeringsweet- 
ness long drawn out.’ Rob was in ecstacy and Pegasus had little 
rest, for Rob was continually mounting the winged steed and 
taking aerial canters, occasionally coming down to earth, but only 
to rise again.” 

When the coaches rumbled into Ambleside a long delighted 
sigh of contentment escaped Robert’s lips. At last he was in 
Ambleside, the “native heath” of Wordsworth, of Dr. Arnold, and 
of Miss Martineau; and the place had been visited at one time or 
another by almost every distinguished traveler. 

A few hours were spent in rambling through the picturesque 
town, and then Clarence, glancing at his watch, observed that not 
a moment was to be lost, if we were to catch the next boat down 
Take Windermere. So with ‘hot haste’ the boys started toward 
the lake and reached the landing just in time for the steamer. 
Among other things noted in the boys’ diaries was a little cottage 
visible from the boat, which is known by the name of Dovenest, 
and which I learned was once the home of Felicia Hemans. As 
we passed it, Clarence laughingly repeated, 

“The boy stood on the burning deck.” 

Islands dotted the surface of the lake for a mile or two after we 
passed the broadest part, and then the narrow portion of the lake 
was entered. Shortly after the boat steamed into port at Lake- 
side station. Here we remained for a day and the boys wrote 


72 


voluminous letters to their mothers. Having no sweethearts 
then, they devoted themselves to those dearest and truest of 
friends, their mothers. I doubt not that those two fond mothers, 
so different, and yet so alike in their mother love, read with a 
great deal of satisfaction the endearing phrases lavished upon 
them by their boys. One of my chief reasons for regretting that 
I am a Silver Dollar is that I have no mother. For, while in my 
numerous travels I have belonged to many a mother, none of all 
the number ever belonged to me. 

But to return to my master and my travels. 

As I have said, we rested a day at Lake Side, and then 
pushed on to York. The York Minster was the principal item of 
interest noted in the diaries, and then we went to Leamington. 
Here the boys had planned to stay three days, and they made good 
use of the time. The first day was devoted to Stratford-on-Avon. 
This town was reached by train. As we entered the old town, 
famous as the native place of William Shakespeare, and also be- 
cause it contains his tomb, Clarence, who was a passionate lover 
of Shakespeare, repeated Garrick’s famous passage — 

Thou soft flowing Avon by thy silver stream 

Of things more than mortal sweet Shakespeare would dream. 

The fairies by moonlight dance ’round his green bed, 

For hollowed the turf is which pillowed his head.” 

Robert was delighted because seldom indeed did Clarence deign 
to quote poetry, preferring to express himself in well-rounded, 
elegant, but prosy prose. The first place of interest visited was 
the house in which the great dramatist was born. Before enter- 
ing the house Clarence paid the driver of the carriage in which 
we rode from the depot, and I caught one fleeting glimpse of the 
venerable house which Washington Irving describes as “a small, 
mean looking edifice of wood and plaster, a true nestling place of 
genius, which seems to delight in hatching its offspring in by- 
corners. The walls of its squalid chambers are covered with 
names and inscriptions in every language, by pilgrims of all 
nations, ranks, and conditions, from the prince to the peasant; and 
present a simple but striking instance of the spontaneous and 
universal homage of mankind to the great poet of nature.” 




73 


I should be glad to give you ^description from personal 
observation of the interior of the house, but as Clarence was moved 
neither by necessity nor charity to open his purse during the rest of 
the tour, I shall gratify your curiosity by giving an extract from 
a letter wdiich Robert wrote to a friend a few days later. 

"The house is directly upon the street. Entering, we found 
ourselves in what was called the living room in the time of 
Shakespeare. There is a large fire-place in the room and seats 
built into the wall. From this room we ascended a narrow stair- 
case, and upon gaining the second floor, the custodian of the 
place, told us that we were now in the room where the poet was 
born. It is needless to tell you that we did little talking and 
much thinking while in this apartment, for it seemed an almost 
sacred place. I could not, however, help repeating to Clarence 
the following lines: 

‘His was one of the few, the immortal names, which were 
not born to die.’ 

The ceiling of this room is very low, and the room itself, 
stripped of its historic value, w^ould scarcely call forth a look 
from any one, unless indeed it were because of its great an- 
tiquity. 

All over the walls are written the names of visitors, some of 
whom are famous — Charles Dickens, Thackeray, Loid Byron, 
Washington Irving, and many others of less renowm. We would 
gladly have followed their example, but since the building has 
become the property of the nation, this practice is forbidden. 

We sat in Shakespeare’s chair, which is in this room, and I 
assure you we enjoyed the privilege, for we have restrained our 
common sense so much that we are delightfully credulous at all 
times. If you would understand this remark fully, read Wash- 
ington Irving’s paper entitled ‘Stratford-on-Avcn. 

We also saw Shakespeare’s portrait. Down stairs we visited 
the Shakespeare museum which is filled with relics more or less 
authentic, but I shall not weary you by giving a list of these in 
this letter. 

After bidding adieu to the house, we walked out to the old 
church where the poet is buried, 


74 


The church mentioned in the letter is known as the Holy 
Trinity Church, of Stratford, and from a brief glimpse I happened 
to get, I am enabled to tell you something about its appearance. 
It is situated on the banks of the Avon, and the yard around it is 
a cemetery. A broad, paved avenue bordered with trees termin- 
ates at the porch of this church. Its entrance is arched, and its 
three finials are crosses. But Clarence and Robert did not re- 
main long at the portals, but hastened in and desired at once to 
be taken to Shakespeare’s tomb. 

He is buried in the chancel. Above it a bust of the bard 
casts its stony eyes upon you. “This bust,’’ explained the guide, 
“was executed a few years after the death of Shakespeare. The 
work was done by one of his personal friends who had a “death” 
mask, or cast, to work from and the features are doubtless 
authentic.” This bit of information lent an additional interest to 
the marble head, and it was with difficulty that Clarence suc- 
ceeded in persuading Robert to read the famous inscription upon 
the tomb: 

“Good friend, for Jesus’ sake forbeare 
To dig the dust inclosed here, 

Blest be he that spares these stones, 

And curst be he that moves by bones.’’ 

After a long visit at this church, the young men went to a hotel 
and secured rooms before starting out again. This hotel was no 
other than the famous “Red Horse Inn” of which the boys had 
read a description from the pen of Washington Irving and others 
by less gifted but equally enthusiastic writers. 01 course they 
visited the room where Irving sat and poked the embers, and 
where he was interrupted in his nocturnal reverie by the pretty 
chamber maid. 

Both young men wrote letters in this room, but as they 
did not read them aloud, as was their usual custom, you must 
remain with me in ignorance of their contents and their desti- 
nation. 

Robert composed a few stanzas which he read aloud to Clar- 
ence, but being a humane dollar, I will not reproduce them. 

That night the yoting men talked far into the “wee sma’ 
hours” about the sights they had seen during the day, kept awake 


75 


by the very novelty of their situation. “Doesn’t it seem wonder- 
ful” murmured Rob, “that we are actually staying all night in the 
very house whose roof once sheltered Shakespeare?” A noise 
suggestive of muffled thunder, but which really proceeded frcm 
the nostrils of my master, was the only response Robert received, 
and thereafter “silence reigned supreme” as far as Robert was 
concerned. 

Warwick Castle was another place of interest to be visited, 
and the next morning found us en route for Warwick . 

The town is very old, but by this time mere antiquity unless 
supplemented by' historic associations had little charm for the 
boys and for them Warwick possessed but one attraction — its 
celebrated castle. Consequently they at once turned their 
thoughts and their steps in the direction of its beetling battle- 
ments, and ere long were in front ofi:he castle. A beautiful road 
leads up to it and an arched drive-way extends through the castle 
itself. Through this unique driveway the carriage containing Clar- 
ence, Robert, and my humble self rolled luxuriously. The lofty 
walls on one side of the castle are almost completely hidden by a 
glossy mantle of “ivy green." Alighting at one of the entrances, 
Clarence and Robert soon found themselves in the dwelling place 
of the illustrious Warwicks. The } 7 recorded so many things of 
interest in their diaries that it is difficult for me to determine 
which of the apartments entered will prove the most noteworthy 
in my autobiography; but as I was blind to all intents and pur- 
poses, I am obliged to resort to a description of the place written 
by Clarence and read aloud to Robert in my presence before he 
sent it across the waters to an editor friend. 

“Having risen early to inhale the clear, untainted morning 
air, we secured a carriage and were driven out to Warwick. 

‘Not far advanced was morning- day’ 

when its grim, grey turrets and ivy grown walls made for our 
eyes an aesthetic feast. As we came nearer, fresh delights 
awaited us, and by the time we entered its walls, we were de- 
lightfully enthusiastic. Robert is such a comfort to a fellow, for 
he has a mind well stored with historic lore, and ujon this oc- 
casion made the story of the Warwicks so entertaining that one 


7 6 


would have thought he were giving a digest of some fascinating 
novel. (I remember that Robert positively declared that the 
above sentence in regard to himself should not be published, and 
I know there was quite a little .scramble over the paper, which 
Robert finally secured and scratched out the offending sentence, 
but I have given it all to you for Robert deserved a compliment 
whenever he received it.) 

Of course the knowledge that we were really in Warwick 
Castle lent an air of romance to the tale, and altogether the visit 
was a decided success. 

The room we liked best was the Banqueting hall. The floor 
of this room is composed of alternate blocks of black and white 
marble. x\round the walls are suits of armor and above these are 
several pairs of antlers. Over one door are six spears, and the 
walls all present a military appearance A beautiful chandelier 
is suspended from the center of the ceiling, and massive chairs 
and tables complete the furniture. A recess in the wall contains 
the famous ‘p unc ^ bowl’ which is an immense vessel, in 
which punch used to be made for all the royal guests. In the 
conservatory we saw* the famous Warwick vase, found long ago in 
Hadrian’s villa at Tivoli in Italy. And so I could go on mention- 
ing, praising, and expatiating upon the antique charms of this 
quaint old castle, but perhaps the readers of this article are not so 
enthusiastic as myself over the silent remains of the by-gone 
days of “merry England.” So I will close this hasty letter and bid 
you a cordial adieu. But even in the very heart of England, in 
the aristocratic shade of her old cathedrals and castles, I am 
pleased and proud to sign myself, an AMERICAN.” 

Upon leaving Warwick Castle Clarence “feed” the guide, and 
in so doing permitted me to take a hasty survey of the castle. 

But even amid such romantic surroundings, those unfeeling lads 
actually turned their backs toward the castle and hurried back to 
Warwick in quest of something to eat. Think of that; it is in 
instances like this that I am led to think that after all I would 
rather be a Silver Dollar than a human being, for I am never 
hungry, and am not under the gross necessity of “eating to live,” 
or doing that abominable alternative, “living to eat.” 


But being in the possession of a young fellow whose appetite 
was by no means the smallest item in his make-up, I was often 
forced to leave the sublime and descend to the culinary. Such 
was my fate in the present instance, and soon, instead of the cool, 
balmy air of Warwick Castle, I detected the odors of roast 
beef, puddings, etc, etc. 

After my master and Robert had satisfied their appetites 
they took a carriage, and we were soon whirling away in the * 
direction of Kenilworth. Think of it, Kenilworth! Why, I was 
so excited that I would have given almost anything, could I have 
broken the clasp of that purse and leaped up into the carriage 
seat. I had heard Scott’s Kenilworth read aloud once by a young 
lady who was at that time my owner, and I was deeply interested 
in the pitiful story. Now as we expected to return to Learning- 
ton by rail, Clarence dismissed the carriage when we reached 
Kenilworth. Delight of delights, I thus caught a glimpse of the 
ruins of the castle. 

To the young men, who were true lovers of Sir Walter 
Scott (as I had previously discovered) a visit to the ruins of 
Kenilworth was a rare treat. As we approached the crumbling 
walls which once formed a part of the proudest castle of England, 
a sigh involuntarily passed their lips, and Robert, ever the friend 
of the ladies, muttered almost inaudibly “Poor Amy Robsart,” 
and the sigh deepened into something like a groan when they be- 
held before them the ruins of Mervyn’s Tower, and he said more 
to himself than to Clarence, “As I stand here among the ruins 
of Kenilworth, here on the spot where the foundations of 
Mervyn’s Tower once stood, my imagination carries me to 
those other ruins, viz, those of Cumnor Hall, and I can almost 
see as old Foster did after Amy had fallen through the trap 
door, ‘only a heap of white clothes like a snow drift’.’’ 

Clarence said that his imagination was not so vivid, but con- 
fessed that even in broad daylight the place gave him an un- 
comfortable feeling, and he declared that he would not go to 
Cumnor Hall at night for all the wealth of the Orient. Such, I 
mused, is the remarkable effect that “ghost stories” have even on 
the minds of men like my master. Rob said nothing, but it was 


evident that he was treasuring up that unguarded remark of 
Clarence’s to bring forth when the spell of the ruined castle and 
the associations it brought up had passed away. What a tease 
that little preacher could become when he tried! Clarence was 
bad, but he teased so much that one became accustomed to it, 
but with Rob teasing came less frequently and counted for more. 

But while I have been discussing my master and his friend 
rather too freely no doubt for a slave, I have been carried farther 
into the ruins and we are surrounded by the crumbling walls of 
the Banqueting hall, and visions of Leicester and “Queen Bess,” 
float haughtily before me. The oriel windows are still there but 
the boys found it hard to think of this ruinous pile of stone as the 
mighty castle of Kenilworth. 

The exterior of the castle is covered with the beautiful Eng- 
lish ivy which I have mentioned several times before. 

But although this was one of the most interesting of all the 
places visited, the time for departure was at hand before either of 
the boys realized it, and the Leamington train was soon boarded. 

When Clarence dismissed the carriage which he had hired at 
Warwick, I had a peep at the ruins of Kenilworth, and I obtained 
another when he purchased some photographs of the castle in its 
present dismantled condition and also some photos, taken from 
old tapestries upon which the castle is wrought as it was in 1620. 
A picture of Amy Robsart was also among the collection. Rob- 
ert purchased one of the latter photos, for the ladies were always 
in high repute with this prospective divine. 

My master said very little about the “fair sex,” and to judge 
from his indifference to them, with the exception always of his 
mother, it was pretty evident that while he said little, he cared 
less. Remember I say this of him at that particular time: Heaven 
forbid that I should say it now! 

For several hours after dinner that evening all that I heard 
was the incessant scratch, scratch, scratch of pens, as the boys : 
filled several pages of their journals with descriptions of Warwick 
and Kenilworth, the former, the one remaining memorial of 
ancient splendor, the latter, the unrecognized sepulcher of some 
of England's unknown dead. 


79 


The time allotted to Leamington and the adjacent ruins hav- 
ing expired, we continued our journey in the direction of Lon- 
don, proposing first to stop for a day at Oxford, and my next 
peep at the outside world disclosed the magnificent Baliol Col- 
lege. “You know,” said Clarence, as we drew near to the build- 
ing, “a student is required to apply two or three years before 
hand when he desires to enter this college, and he must pass a 
more rigid examination than I should care to do.” Robert 
smiled, but said nothing. He wished from the depths of his soul 
that he possessed as much wealth as my master, and then he 
would .very likely have answered this question in the negative, 
for his chiefest' treasures were his books, and he could 
truly say, “my mind to me a kingdom is.” Clarence was 
scholarly but not such a student as Robert. He was “cut out” for 
a business man, but was superior to most men of that class, 
and possessed as generous, as noble a heart .as ever beat be- 
neath a modern vest. 

But by this time the young men had entered the building 
and Robert being acquainted with one of the professors, who was 
an American, they were treated with more than usual considera- 
tion. 

Through this and other college buildings they went, finding a 
peculiar delight and restfulness steal over them whenever they 
entered one of the quadrangles (in which form these colleges are 
built) for an air of restful elegance seemed to pervade the place, 
peculiarly suited to the tastes of both my master and Rob. The 
professor with whom Rob was acquainted showed them the most 
interesting places about the University. Robert longed for one 
of the villas nestling among the green trees in the vicinity of Ox- 
ford Park, and Clarence felt inclined to remove his father’s 
factory to Oxford and thus enjoy the refining influences of the 
University while pursuing the every day routine of business, but 
as the factory was in New York and he was now in Oxford, it is 
needless to say that like other castles in the air, it came tumbling 
about his shoulders. 

The grounds about Magdalen College are enchanting, and 
the young men were loath to leave. Contrary to their arrange- 


ments, which were (as I have previously mentioned) to push on 
to London that evening, we remained all night in Oxford, and 
Robert drank in to his heart’s content and his soul’s delight the 
triumphs of nature and art around this old seat of learning. 

While wandering through the Baliol gardens that evening 
almost forgetful of the fact that they were still encumbered with 
“this mortal coil,’’ they were borne on fancy’s wing “little farther 
from the earth, and nearer to the skies;” for the silence was 
broken by strains of sacred music, coming from a building at 
.some distance, but just distinct enough to give an unearthly 
sweetness to the sound. “Hark,” whispered Clarence, and both 
listened intently to catch, if possible, the words of the song whose 
whose sweetness was rendered almost celestial by the romantic 
surroundings and the magical beauty of the night. 

Long into the night we remained out doors, my master and 
his friend were strangers indeed to almost every one in that city, 
but they were old friends, lovers indeed, of dear, Dame Nature, 
who seemed to be displaying her charms that summer night for 
the special delight of two of her favorite sons, and could she have 
understood their words she would doubtless have felt gratified at 
the extravagance of their praise. Nature being a female, I pre- 
sume it is quite the proper thing to attribute vanity to her. At 
least the men say so. 

But to return to our visit to Baliol. At last the 
long day’s jaunt and the lateness of the hour began to cause a 
certain drowsiness to steal over the senses of my master and Rob- 
ert; and with a willingness, they would have believed impossible 
a half hour before, they quitted the silent campus and repaired to 
their room and to rest. 


The next morning the south-bound train carried two en- 
thusiastic tourists whose destination was London and whose 
names were respectively R. Howard and C. Urban, and in the 
purse of the latter, jostled about among six-pence, and shillings, 
four-pence and florins, all bearing the peaceful features of Queen 
Vic, lay a poor miserable silver dollar, bearing, it is true, the in- 
signia of the greatest republic in the world, but alas, not legal 
tender in the land of John Bull. Thus you see that while my 








master was merry, I was miserable, and longed to be back again 
in my native land where I am worth as much as four of those 
paltry shillings added together. But in the mean time the train 
had been steaming on toward London, and as the porter unlocked 
the door of their compartment, Clarence and Robert jumped 
simultaneously to the platform, the former exclaiming “London 
at last, and nobody was ever happier to enter it than I.” “Ex- 
cepting myself,” said Robert. 

A long line of cabs were drawn up along the platform and 
choosing one of these Clarence told the driver to take us to the 
Hotel Langdon, and there we made our home during our five 
weeks’ stay in London. 

In speaking of London I shall depart from the method I have 
thus far employed and shall only mention a few of the places to 
which I was carried. The loft} 7 towers of Westminster rise first 
before me, and I will give you a few reminscences of the Abbey. 

The size of the building as well as its innumerable tombs, 
relics, etc., seemed to be a great surprise to Clarence, and turning 
to Rob he remarked, “Truly, Rob, ‘The half has never been 
told’.” 

Of course the Poet’s Corner attracted Robert’s attention, and 
he expressed the modest wish that he might be buried there. 

Clarence laughed heartily at his friend, which would have 
offended the sensitive nature of the poet had it come from any 
one else, but from Clarence it seemed the most natural thing in 
the world. I did not have an opportunity of seeing any of the 
tombs, and the guide rattled off the story of each at such a terri- 
fic rate that the head of my poor Liberty was in a perfect whirl, 
while the eagle uttered a smothered scream only heard by my- 
self, and us of the silver fraternity, but which sounded very 
much like “hold your tongue.” 

Consequently I am unable to mention even a few of the tombs 
but as Clarence wrote home, “if you want the names of those who 
are buried here, just buy a Baedeker and read for yourself.” 
One thing I do remember though, and that was that both boys sat 
in the coronation chair under the seat of which is a stone said to 
be the one upon which Jacob rested when he saw his wonderful 


vision. It is called the“ Stone of Sconce.” It was brought from 
Egypt to Ireland and the Irish monarchs sat upon it at their 
coronation, then it was carried to Scotland and served a similar 
purpose, and now it is in Westminster, and every English 
sovereign is crowned upon it. Such is its tradition, and it is not 
for a silver dollar to deny its authenticity. 

In St. Margaret’s Chapel the guide, who had by this time 
discovered “our”' nationality, pointed out Sir Walter Raleigh’s 
pew, where all Americans sit, and it was with a little burst of 
patriotism that Robert cried as he noticed a little American flag- 
attached to the pew, “hook here Clarence, the stars and stripes, 
hurrah for the red, white and blue.” 

They were further reminded of America by a magnificent 
window in this cathedral, placed there by order of the doner, 
George W. Childs, in honor of Milton. 

These are a few of the sights seen and commented upon by 
the two young men. I have chosen them because they made the 
most lasting impression upon me, especially the American pew, 
for I am thoroughly American and out of my element when 
abroad. 

The British Museum detained us a whole day, but one is con- 
fronted by an embarrassment of riches when he would describe it. 

I shall consequently, refer you to the numerous accounts given 
elsewhere of this institution, because that is what Clarence did, 
and being a slave, I cannot outdo my master. 

St. Paul’s church was visited one misty morning, but the 
smoke, clouds and rain could not take away from the grand 
edifice its awe-inspiring beauty. 

As Clarence and Robert came in sight of it an almost simul- 
taneous exclamation of delight burst from their lips. At the 
eastern portal ' a statue of Queen Anne attracted their attention. 

“I read once,” said Clarence, “that at the tipie the statue was • 
erected, there was a tavern so situated that the face of the statue 
was turned toward it, and some wag composed^ the following 
couplet — 

‘Queen Anne, Queen Anne, she’s left in the lurch, 

Her face to the gin shop, her back to the church’.” 


#3 

Over the western portal, through which we entered, is a 
bas-relief of the Conversion of St. Paul. Other attractions there 
were in plenty, but these I cannot stop to enumerate, as I did 
not have the pleasure of seeing the interior of St. Paul’s One place 
visited was the Whispering Gallery, of which the boys had read 
in their school books, and while they had expected something ex- 
traordinary, they were really astonished to find how distinctly a 
whisper from one side of the immense dome is heard on the 
opposite side. 

Another church visited by our party was the Templars’ 
church, where the Knights Templars were buried. Their tombs 
are placed around the floor for a little distance, and then the 
church proper is reached. We did not tarry long in there, for 
the boys had decided to go to the National Gallery on Trafalger 
Square that day. 

I learned from the conversation carried on with the guide 
that this gallery contains eighteen rooms upon the walls of which 
are hung noo pictures. The works of the best artists are dis- 
played in this gallery, and Clarence, being no mean art critic, and 
a most ardent admirer of paintings, fairly revelled in this magnifi- 
cent collection. Turner is well represented there, for at his death 
he bequeathed a large number of his choicest paintings to the 
National Gallery. The boys did not confine themselves to one 
visit, but went to the gallery several times. 

One day for the fun of it Robert priced one of the statues 
and on being told the price, a low whistle escaped his lips which 
caused Clarence to smile and say that the incident reminded him 
of a Yankee who once visited Mr. Power’s studio in Rome, and 
asked the price of “The Greek Slave.” He was told that it was 
worth $12,000, and exclaimed innocently “whew the price o’ 
staooary must a ’riz.” 

One of the few really bright days during our visit to London, 
the boys rode out to Windsor Castle, the home of England’s 
Queen. 

The ride of twenty-five miles over the Great Western rail- 
way was hugely enjoyed to judge from the tenor of the boys’ con- 
versation, and when they reached their destination and entered 


the castle the note books came out at once. Robert was interested 
in St. George’s chapel where religious services are* held on Sun- 
days. This is a beautiful Gothic structure and was much admired 
by both boys. 

From this chapel the guide took them into the northern 
court where the old state apartments are open to visitors. 

There are almost twenty of these apartments, and their walls 
are hung with so many beautiful pictures, and such a number of 
celebrated statues adorn the rooms that my master longed to 
wander through them leisurely and examine each separately, but 
this was a privilege that could be obtained neither for love nor 
money, though Clarence tried to bribe the custodian with no 
small amount of the latter. Upon the other hand they were hur- 
ried through a narrow passage and were obliged to hurry so that 
by the time they had finished the tour they had only a confused 
memory of magnificent apartments, costly statues, etc., and were 
obliged to refer to their guide books to know where the}^ com- 
menced and how they had proceeded. 

We visited the round tower, or keep, next, and from the 
battlements my master and Rob obtained a charming view of the 
surrounding country. Again upon terra firma they repaired to 
Eton College, and desiring to see the school, applied to the. clerk 
to the head master of the school. He gave them the privilege de- 
sired, and to adapt a bit of American slang to an English pur- 
pose, we “did” the college thoroughly. The students in their 
short jackets, broad collars, and high hats reminded the two boys 
of their own college days, so recently concluded, and as they, 
luckily, were acquainted with one of the students, they received 
more attention than they otherwise would. But as Clarence said, 
“all good things must have an end,” and they were compelled to 
leave the grand old institution before their visit was half finished. 

But there was one more attraction for them at Windsor, and 
this was “Stokes Poges” whose cemetery is the scene of Gray’s 
Elegy. A delightful ramble through picturesque scenes brought 
them to their destination, and itseemedto afford them considerable 
more pleasure than I could account for to visit this strange, old 
cemetery. But as I have often remarked, “as I am only a 


Silver Dollar my opinions of human eccentricities have very lit- 
tle weight.” 

We tarried a long time by the side of Gray’s tomb, and Rob- 
ert repeated the first few stanzas of the Elegy as he leaned over 
•the author’s grave. 

Again at Windsor the London train was boarded, and we 
were soon whirling away toward the metropolis. 

During the next few days my master carried me hither and 
thither, visiting first one place then another, but as these trips 
were generally to business houses, I shall not pause to delineate 
the various figures in the curious panorama which passed before 
my master’s eyes. 

One place which I shall long remember was the Crystal 
Palace. We rode out to this wonderful palace on one of the 
numerous trains and spent the whole day there. Clarence made 
several purchases at the different bazaars which afforded me a 
splendid view of my surroundings. 

The Botanical portion of the palace pleased Robert best, and 
he examined very closely some of the rare and beautiful speci- 
mens. 

The fountains also were much admired and the artificial cas- 
cades (which fortunately for the boys) were in full play that 
morning, afforded my master no small degree of delight. Rob said 
he h id heard that when all of these fountains and cascades are 
playing that about 6,000,000 gallons of water are daily consumed. 

The reproduction of the Alhambra pleased both of the 
youths because through the pages of Washington Irving’s “Al- 
hambra” they were familiar with the mysteries of that wonderful 
“Moorish palace,” surrounded by such a glamour of romance by 
this delightful writer. The Fountain of the Lions recalled the 
“Tale of the Discreet Statues” and other of those weird little 
romances of Irving’s.* 

But the day being now far spent, we left the wonderful Crys- 
tal Palace and boarded the train for London. 

Another excursion from London was one to Richmond and 
thence by carriage to Hampton Court. This is a superb palace 
where the royal ladies live surrounded by all the luxury due to 


86 


their exalted station, composing as they do the very flower of 
English womanhood. 

This, I learned from Robert’s remarks, was the home, at one 
time, of Cardinal Wolsey, but King Henry VIII grew jealous of 
him and might have taken it from him, Wolsey, however, artfully 
made the King a present of the palace and it is needless to say it was 
accepted. The two hours spent at Hampton Court were full of 
pleasure and long remembered. 

If I recollect correctly, the next day was devoted to Kensing- 
ton. 

When Clarence opened his purse upon leaving Hyde Park 
and entering Kensington Gardens, I had a most gorgeous view. 
The ground is laid off in ornamental park style interspersed with 
walks and ornamented with occasional clumps of noble trees. I 
enjoyed the prospect immensely. The palace in the western part 
is chiefly noted because it is the birth place of England’s present 
Queen. This piece of information the guide communicated to 
the boys with an amount of pride becoming a loyal subject of the 
Queen. 

I also had a peep at the Albert Memorial erected by the 
English nation, and Clarence said he had heard that its cost was 
something in the neighborhood of 120,000 tbs. The monument is 
truly a “thing of beauty,” but of course the colossal bronze statue 
of Prince Albert wearing the robe of the Knights of the Garter 
causes one to forget the beauty of the setting in the splendor of 
the gem. Clarence examined it closely on all sides, and then he 
and Robert walked across to Albert Hall from whence they ob- 
tained a commanding view of the monument. 

We then entered the hall and remained for some time. But 
I do not know what Clarence said about it in his diary, and shall 
be compelled to bid it farewell as did my master “when the sun 
was bending low.” 

During our visit to Kensington several letters had arrived for 
the boys, and upon their arrival at the hotel they devoured their 
contents greedily. 

The place to which the boys turned their faces the next 
morning was none other than the famous Tower of Eondon 


<?7 


where we spent the whole forenoon. But it is needless for me to 
review the sights there beheld, for what child has not read of the 
gorgeous jewels in the glass case, the imposing guard, etc., etc? 

I was much interested in a building not far distant to which 
my master paid a visit far too fleeting in its duration to satisfy 
the longings of my silver heart. That building was the Royal 
Mint. Clarence opened his purse once while we were in this 
building, and I assure you that I did not lose so good an oppor- 
tunity to inspect a process in which I have such a vital interest. 
I found that the process of coining is very similar to the one 
which took me, a rough nugget of raw silver, and after subject- 
ing me to the tests recited in the beginning of my historj’, sent 
me forth, a bright, glossy silver dollar. I’m not so glossy now. 
People get their polish by travel; / lost mine by it. 

I was* put back into Clarence’s purse just as a florin was 
being put into the milling machine, and for the first time since I 
had been his slave, I was “exceeding wroth” with my master. 
But I had learned long ere that time that my feelings were of 
very small importance to him, and consequently I decided not to 
let “the sun set on my anger.” 

This was our last night in London. Next morning found us 
ready to depart, my master leaving his mother farther behind at 
every step, while Robert’s heart beat high with hope, for each 
stage of this interesting journey was a token that a shorter dis- 
tance lay between him and his mother. 

Our destination was Southampton. We reached it in safety, 
and ere many hours we had stepped aboard a steamer — and had 
bidden farewell to “Merry England.” 


CHAPTER IX. 

GERMANY. 

The boat landed at Hamburg, but as nothing of special im- 
portance was to be seen in that city, only a short visit was paid 
it, and then the train was boarded for Berlin. 

The ride from Hamburg to Berlin was not without adven- 
ture, but very likely you are becoming as impatient as Robert 
was to reach Vienna, and consequently I shall not henceforth tax 
your patience by going into detail excepting in such instances as 
I shall deem it prudent. Follow me therefore through the busy 
thoroughfares of Berlin as I am carried in the purse of my master 
toward the Hotel de Roma. 

I had a glimpse of the city as Clarence paid the driver of the 
carriage, and then that provoking purse closed upon me and I 
saw no more that evening. Nevertheless, I could hear, which was 
my one consolation, and I paid scrupulous attention to all that 
was said. This is the reason that I am now enabled to give you 
a connected narrative of my experiences while following the for- 
tunes of Clarence Urban. 

Once established in the hotel, the boys read the letters which 
awaited them, and then by the steady scratching of their pens, I 
knew they were answering their correspondence. 

After the writing ceased, the young men talked, planned, and 
joked till a late hour and then retired to rest. Robert’s spirits 
rose higher every day, for as he often exclaimed to Clarence, “I’m 
getting nearer Vienna all the time.” Clarence was as usual his 
own jolly self, and it was my opinion that two more congenial 
young men could not be found on the continent. 

On the morning of our arrival in Berlin we visited the 
National Gallery. By rare good fortune I had an opportunity of 


obtaining a glimpse of this celebrated treasure house of art, but 
the greater part of my narrative has been gleaned from the re- 
marks of the two young men as they stood before those far famed 
pictures and gave their aesthetic natures full sway over their 
minds. 

Of the many thousand pictures those which seemed to im- 
press them most were as diverse in their subjects as they were 
alike in their beauty. 

The first picture which conies back to me (for I had a fleeting 
view of it) is the “Rape of Helen/’ The face and form of the 
woman are transcendently beautiful. One shapely arm is thrown 
over the shoulder of Paris, and the beautiful face is turned from 
his toward the rude mariners who have in readiness the vessel 
which is to carry the lovely Helen from the arms of her husband 
to the distant plains of Troy. 

“No wonder Menelaus fought for her, even if she did run 
away from him. I’d do the same thing myself’’ said Clarence, “if 
I had such a wife as that.” “Yes,” responded Rob, “and I’m glad 
he did it, for if he hadn’t we’d never have had the Iliad.” 

Thus speaking they passed down the gallery, pausing again 
and again to admire, but the next canvas with which they liter- 
ally fell in love was “The Rising of Jarius’ Daughter,” by Gustav 
Richter. 

“Ah,” said Rob, “that face of the Christ fulfills my idea of 
him perfectly. With what a tender, yet commanding expression 
he gazes upon her. I can almost imagine I can hear the blessed 
‘Talithi Cumni’ arid see the shrouded form arise.” For many 
moments the youths viewed the powerful picture, and then 
turned to another by Gabriel Max in which the Saviour is again 
portrayed as laying his hand upon the head of a sick child. 
Neither of the boys liked this picture of the Christ as well as the 
one they had just seen, but the face of the woman who held the 
little child was exceptionally striking. 

A picture which held them spell-bound was Spangenberg’s 
“March of Death.” The figures were of course allegorical. In 
the center of the canvas was Death, arrayed in fantastic gar- 
ments and carrying in his bony hand a large bell which he is pre- 


9o 


sented as ringing. Following him are persons in every station of 
life — the little child, the pious priest, the victorious warrior, the 
white robed bride, rosy youth, and decrepit old age. 

At the left is a most striking figure; that of an old woman 
whose face evinces that she is tired of life. She stretches forth 
her withered hand towards Death, but she, poor creature, who 
alone desires him, cannot go with him when she would. On the 
right hand a beautiful girl is taking leave of her handsome lover, 
who it is but too apparent, is about to join- the “innumerable 
caravan” who are following the hollow-eyed captain of the host. 

Among other pictures of note was the “Children’s Party” by 
Knaus; “The Pursuit of Happiness” by Henneberg, and ever so 
many others. But I shall not attempt to describe what is inde- 
scribable. 

After a protracted visit to the gallery the boys went back to 
the hotel for dinner and spent the evening in writing letters. 

The next day they visited the National Museum and saw 
Murillo’s “St. Anthony of Padua,” a magnificent painting in 
which the saint is represented as wearing the garb of the Catholic 
priesthood and holding in his arms a beautiful infant whose 
chubby hand caresses his cheek and whose cherub face is nestled 
close to his. Other children hover around them one bearing a 
branch of stately lilies and others appear to be angels half hidden 
by fleecy clouds. 

But to mention even a few of the objects of interest collected 
in this museum would be to exceed by far the limits I have set 
for this little book. I shall therefore pass over this portion of my 
sojourn in Berlin. 

The palace of Emperor William was visited the next morn- 
ing, and from one good peep I got of it I am enabled to tell you 
that it was one of the most homelike palaces into which I was 
carried. 

There were rooms which were not open to the public but 
through those which were accessible Clarence and Robert went, 
stopping often to admire the beautiful furnishings and the many 
costly and unique presents with which the palace is filled. 

Very often I heard one or both of the boys exclaim, “Why 


9 * 


here’s another picture of Queen Louise,” and both would stop to 
examine it, “Emperor William,” said Clarence, “must certainly 
have adored his mother, for in almost every room we have 
noticed her likeness.” 

One room is called the "Round Room,” and by standing in a 
certain place and shouting, the boys succeeded in hearing their 
voices echoed twenty-five times. 

The Royal Palace was next visited. 

Part of it was built in 1451, but the custodian imformed Clar- 
ence that the succeeding kings had since made many additions, 
and at the time of our visit it was quite an imposing structure. 

Here the boys had a novel, and not altogether pleasant ex- 
perience — that of wearing felt shoes. 

They were compelled to wear these to prevent their shoes 
from defacing the hard wood floors. I did not see these shoes, 
but Rob declared that one was large enough for both of his feet. 

The boys cautiously compared the guide to a phonograph 
which had been wound up and could not be stopped. Perfectly 
regardless of his frantic efforts to hold their attention, they be- 
came apparently deaf to his garrulous chatter and feasted their 
eyes on the wonders all about them. I remember that they were 
especially interested in the throne room. Over its door is a sil- 
ver balcony which I would have given worlds to have seen, for I 
am naturally interested in silver, but my fate was fixed and in 
those days my trials were innumerable. 

The picture gallery into which they were soon ushered con- 
tained many celebrated pictures, and Clarence, of course, lost no 
opportunity of examining works of art. Put no kindly chance 
took pity on me and I shall forever remain in ignorance of what 
those paintings were. 

Robert was entranced by the chapel, and as Clarence hap- 
pened to have a tiny pencil in his purse, which he desired, he 
opened my prison and I peeped out. 

The floor, as I remember, is paved with marble of various 
kinds and colors, and the walls are formed in a similar manner 
and adorned with frescoes. 

The altar is composed, of four columns of yellow Egyptian 


92 


marble, a present from the Khedive. The pulpit and candelabra 
are of Carrara marble, but ere I could see anything else, Clarence 
had taken the pencil from his purse and precipitated it and my- 
self again into his pocket. 

The guide at this juncture related a ghost story which was 
something on this order. ‘‘A white lady haunts this chapel, and 
comes to foretell the death of each member of the royal house of 
Hohenzollern. It is the ghost of the Countess of Orlaminde, who 
murdered her two children so that she could marry the Burg- 
grave, , Albert of Normandy.” 

Robert was intensely interested in this story and treasured it 
up for future use in poetry. 

With the feeling of awe created by the story, which contrary 
to their common sense, had rendered them uncomfortable, the 
young men left the chapel, and dispelled the superstitious dread 
(which does come to every one under similar circumstances, al- 
though they all deny it) by going back to the hotel. 

That evening when the sun was still an hour or two above 
the horizon, Clarence proposed a walk through one of the cele- 
brated streets, not only of Berlin, but of Germany as well, “Unter 
den Linden,” or Under the Lindens. Of this thoroughfare I had 
one delightful peep as Clarence made some purchase, and I be- 
held a street twice as wide as Broadway with a noble avenue of 
lindens in the center. At one end are the columns of the splen- 
did Brandenburg Gate, like the portico of a Grecian temple, but 
that was all I saw. 

Still I was thankful, for it was one of the prettiest streets I 
ever beheld. Robert raved over it, and Clarence greatly admired 
it. 

When the shades of night crept over the far famed “ Unter 
den Linden the two friends retraced their steps and finally 
entered their room at the Hotel de Roma. 

My next intimation of their movements was given me by 
Robert who no sooner awoke next morning, than he roused. Clar- 
ence by the cheering intelligence that the rain was coming down 
in torrents, and added a rueful surmise that it was very probable 
that they would not have the pleasure of driving out to Potsdam, 


93 


Clarence was equally disappointed. The morning passed slowly 
and the boys spent the time in letter writing. 

At noon the sun, as if to make up for his neglect, shone out 
with dazzling brightness, and my master and Rob hastily swallow- 
ing their lunch, repaired to the railroad station and were soon 
being whirled away in the direction of Potsdam. The journey 
proved an enjoyable one, and the old palace of Emperor William 
pleased the two friends, because, like the one in Berlin, it was so 
home like. In it were numerous presents, among which was one 
from the United States, composed of the different mineral pro- 
ducts of our country. However, as I did not see it, I cannot tell 
you what it was. Before leaving that vicinity the boys .''pent 
some time in sight seeing and then started for the San Souci 
palace. 

Again the fates were propitious for me, and just as we were 
nearing the palace, Clarence not only took out his wallet, but 
held it open some time while counting the foreign coins and 
notes with which it was filled. During the interim I took in the 
exterior of San Souci. It is a one story building, erected by 
Frederick the Great and was his residence almost all his life. 

In the palace the young men were much interested in an an- 
cient clock which the guide told them was never wound by any 
one but Frederick, and which stopped at the very moment he ex- 
pired, 2:30 p. m. Robert was perfectly delighted with a curious 
room, formerly the apartment of Frederick’s great friend, Voltaire. 

My master soon carried me out of the palace, and directed 
the driver to drive to the “New Palace.’’ 

On our way we passed a famous old wind mill which Robert 
declared to be one of the most picturesque sights he had wit- 
nessed during the tour. The driver told us that Frederick the 
Great desired to purchase it, but the owner refused to sell it, 
being ignorant of Frederick’s identity. “But,’’ added the driver, 
“when the owner of the mill found out who it was that desired to 
purchase his mill, he put an enormous price upon it.’’ 

After some little conversation upon the beauty of the country 
through which they were passing, they arrived at their desti- 
nation. By this time it was raining, but this inconvenience did 


94 


not dampen their ardor and they soon forgot the gloomy weather 
in the marvelous beauty of the palace. The young men gave 
their preference to the room which is called the grotto or shell 
room. Its walls are inlaid with shells, arranged in almost every 
conceivable combination and design. The predominating feature, 
however, was the dragon. 

Precious stones and minerals form the materials for the 
friezes and columns. 

After a long visit to this palace, the boys were rather glad to 
get back to Berlin, as their appetites were increasing and their 
spirits decreasing at an equal rate. 

During the time I was in Berlin, I noticed one peculiarity of 
its people, the great love they still bear for the old Emperor Wil- 
liam. Pictures, statues — everything imaginable are executed in 
his memory, and time seems to have no effect upon their attach- 
ment, unless, I was about to say, to strengthen it. 

But the city of Cologne now rises in my memory, and 
I hasten to pay my mite of homage at its shrine. 

I remember that we did not remain long in Cologne, but 
while there we visited the far famed Cathedral. While in the 
Cathedral I learned, by listening to the conversation, that the 
towers are 500 feet high and that the Cathedral itself is 500 feet 
long. Behind the high altar is the Chapel of the Three Kings. 
As a fee was charged here, I had a peep at my surroundings. 

One interesting relic in that chapel is a silver case which the 
guide said contains the bones of the three wise men who came 
from the east to Bethelehem to offer gifts to the infant Saviour. 
He also showed them the skulls of the Magi crowned with dia- 
monds and pointed out to them the names written in rubies. 

Clarence asked the guide what value was placed upon the 
case and the skulls and he said that they were valued at two mil- 
lion dollars. 

It was a long time before they left the Cathedral, and even 
after they had left it, the young men turned several times and 
looked back, so loath were they to \eave so beautiful and awe-in- 
spiring an edifice. 

Robert loved the very atmosphere of Cathedrals, because, as 


he would say, it seemed as if he had “left the world with its 
hurry, worry, and bustle far behind and found a quiet haven 
where my soul can rest and worship. Catholic it is to be sure, 
but nevertheless the 

‘Stoned windows richly dight, 

Shedding a dim religious light,’ 

bring a quiet happiness even into my Protestant heart, and fills 
my whole being with perfect peace'” 

To tell you, therefore, that Robert was delighted with the 
Cologne Cathedral would be unnecessary, but even at such a time 
my master felt the pangs of hunger, and as I have said, hurried 
away and procured luncheon. 

Afterwards, I was carried to the Museum which the youths 
visited to see the picture of Queen Uouise, and if I may judge 
from their remarks, they felt amply repaid for any trouble or ex- 
pense incurred. 

As only one day had been reserved for Cologne, they were 
compelled to make good use of their time, so after leaving the 
Museum, they repaired to the Church of St. Ursula, where they 
were shown the bones of the eleven thousand virgins which are 
fantastically arranged around the walls. This, of course, was of 
interest, but it made Clarence shudder and he could not be pre- 
vailed upon to remain long in the church. 

As we were to leave by a morning train for Coblentz they 
spent the evening in walking about the city and getting some 
idea of “Cologne by gas light.” 

The next day dawned fair and beautiful. Fleecy clouds 
flitted across the blue sky, and the sun kissed the waters of the 
Rhine as the two young men approached the wharf and boarded 
the steamer which was to bear them to Coblentz. Robert scarcely 
left the deck during the whole trip, for his soul delighted in feast- 
ing upon Nature’s beauty and here he declared he saw “Nature 
in the effulgence of her beauty.” I learned from remarks drop- 
ped by different persons that the western bank was covered with 
vineyards from whose purple clusters the famous Rhenish wines 
are distilled. 


g6 


Robert said he would prefer wine in its native bottles, the 
skins of the grapes, but Clarence shocked him visibly by remark- 
ing that he would not mind having a few bottles of the distilled 
liquor. 

Time sped on, and at 3:15 p. m. they reached their destin- 
ation, and my master immediately ordered a carriage and was 
driven to Stolzenfelz to see the old castle. When they arrived at 
the foot of the hill upon which this castle is built, the boys were 
obliged to do one of two things, secure donkeys or walk. They 
chose the former, and suffered the consequence — fleas. But while 
these insects paid the young men unremitting attention, still 
their pleasure was not wholly obliterated, for the palace at the 
summit was well worthy the name. It is four hundred feet above 
the river, and in front of it and just below is the Chapel which 
Clarence and Robert admired very much. 

But they seemed to derive more pleasure from the view of 
the Rhine and the adjacent country than from the Castle and its 
immediate surroundings. 

After they again reached Coblentz, I was carried to the Hotel 
Giant, and the boys retired for the night. Next morning they 
rose very early and obtained a delightful view of the formidable 
fortress of Ehrenbreitstein. It stands four hundred feet above the 
river and is defended by four hundred cannon. Robert exhibited 
his faculty for remembering things by remarking that he had 
read that this fortress could accommodate one hundred thousand 
men, and that provisions for eight thousand men for ten years 
can be stored in the vaults. “I recollect,” said he, “that when I 
read the statement I doubted it very much, but now with the fort- 
ress in sight, I am willing to believe it. It is called the ‘Gibralter 
of Germany’ and I think it a well chosen name.” 

Eater in the morning they entered a boat bound for Wies- 
baden and took their leave of Coblentz; not, however, without 
scrutinizing carefully the pontoon bridge which opened to let the 
boat pass. 

I remember that my ‘master, Robert, and for that matter, al- 
most everybody on the boat, kept running from one side of it to 
the other to view the splendid scenery which now spread out be- 


97 


fore them, and as Clarence said, “it kept one busy writing down 
the names of the ruined castles whose number is veritably legion.” 

Our destination was Biebrich, and at that port the boat 
landed in due time. After a very short delay a carriage was 
hired for Weisbaden. A short visit was paid to that town, suffi- 
cient only for the boys to see the hot springs for which the place 
is noted, and the following morning found us en route for Frank- 
fort-on- Main. 

During our stay in Frankfort I had several glimpses of the 
city, but as I had the peculiar pleasure of reading a letter which 
my master wrote to his mother on the last night of our sojourn 
in the German Capital, I shall give it to you entire. 

He had been counting his money, and in so doing had 
emptied the contents of his purse on the table before him, and I, 
unnoticed for the time being, lay on the table quite near his 
paper as he wrote, and not knowing that it was highly improper 
for me to do so, I read the following letter : 

“Frankfort-on-the-Main, Aug. ist, 1889. 

My Dear Mother: — 

In the midst of all these wonderful surroundings, after a long- 
day of sight-seeing and odd experiences, the quiet hour of even- 
ing brings with it thoughts of home, and need I add, of you? 

It would afford me much satisfaction to know how you and 
father are spending this first evening in August, but as I cannot 
claim the joy I covet, I shall console myself by telling you all I 
can about the city of Frankfort. 

We came here by train from Weisbaden, and as soon as we 
had secured a room at the Hotel Frankfort d’ Angleterre, we set 
out to visit Goethe’s house, which is a three-story building and 
his studio was on the third floor. Robert suggests that his 
reason for this was to get nearer the clouds, but I with my com- 
monplace philosophy, bluntly said that I should imagine he took 
the third story to avoid the trials of housekeeping. We saw his 
little stage where he used to place his characters and we also saw 
the MSS of the Nibelungenlied with Goethe’s criticism. 

After leaving Goethe’s house, we went in search of a lunch 
which we finally secured after ‘much tribulation,’ as Rob would say. 




The afternoon was now before us, and we resolved to go 
first to see the old bridge said to have been erected in 1342 by 
Charlemagne. This bridge is built of red sandstone which is 
chipped off and defaced in so many places that one can readily 
give credit to the story of its antiquity. 

A statue of Charlemagne marks the center of the bridge. I 
was examining this when Rob called my attention to an old iron 
cross with a figure of Christ upon it, and surmounted by a cock. 
The combination was so odd that I could not help ridiculing the 
artist, but Rob immediately ‘squelched’ my mirth by giving me a 
detailed account of the diabolical tradition of the bridge. 

Really .1 cannot imagine myself traveling alone, for Rob 
knows everything , and prevents me from making of myself a 
‘spectacle for gods and men.’ 

But to return to our rambles. After we had taken a good 
look up and down the Main from the bridge, we returned to the 
city and repaired to the Domkirche or Cathedral where we saw 
the Election Room as it is called. This is the place where the 
Emperors from Conrad I to Francis II, a period of eight hundred 
years, were elected, after which they were crowned in front of the 
high altar of the Cathedral. 

We next visited the Town Hall or Romer. In this hall the 
festivities following the election of the emperors were celebrated. 

A grand banquet was given here, and the emperor was 
waited upon at table by kings and princes. In the market place 
or Romerberg outside, an ox was roasted whole, and the emperor 
ate a slice of it. In the center of the Romerburg is a fountain 
called the Justitia Fountain, and during these festivities red and 
white wine instead of water ran from the fountain, and the 
king was served with a glass of this as he ate his slice of meat. 
Rob was shocked at this but I thought it quite an idea. Dear, 
dear, what a life I lead that boy. I am continually saying some- 
thing decidedly unecclesiastical, and Rob raises his eye brows at 
me to such an alarming extent that I become instantly subdued. 

After we had visited the places mentioned, we returned to 
the hotel for dinner. You who know my propensities for eating 
can form some conception of the condition of my appetite after a 


99 


long day of sight seeing and a very poor excuse of a lunch at 
noon. I think I have spent more money in purchasing eatables 
than for anything else, but the truth is, we would die of starvation 
if we did not ‘tip the waiter’ very frequently. 

Our appetites once satisfied, however, we were equal to any- 
thing, and last evening we visited the Palm Gardens which are 
superb evidences of horticultural art. Rob says that ‘Queen 
Flora seems to have taken up her abode here and beautified the 
place by her own presence.’ Rob can get poetry out of any thing, 
but those gardens awoke sentimental thoughts even .in my un- 
susceptible bosom. I was especially captivated by an artificial 
lake whose water was as clear as a mirror, and the reflection of 
the stars made it doubly romantic. 

A band was stationed somewhere among the shrubbery, and 
you can imagine the effect of music under such conditions and 
with such surroundings. After we returned from the gardens, 
Rob was lost in meditation. He was no doubt thinking of his 
mother. I never saw any one so devoted to a mother as Rob. 
One would imagine he had a sweetheart up there in Vienna, and 
sometimes I tease him about the young lady who is with his 
mother. He declares he has never seen the girl, but of course, I 
must tease. I hope that nothing will delay our arrival in Vienna. 
I verily believe Rob would become insane if we did not reach 
there on the very day we have set. 

But I cannot censure him; I cannot even smile at him, for I 
feel a similar affection myself, and I should like to hear any one 
say that the object is not equally deserving. 

This morning we visited the Ariadneum or Bethmann’s 
Museum whose chief attraction is, as you know, the statue of 
Ariadne by Danneker. She is represented as seated on the tiger 
of Bacchus. It is one of the most beautiful pieces of statuary 
we have yet seen. It is certainly very appropriate to have statues 
of Bacchus or his bride here, for the old wine god could 
scarcely find more devoted worshippers than these Germans. 

This is our last evening in Frankfort-on-Main. Tomorrow 
we start for Heidelberg. We* have just four places more to 
visit, and then, ho for Vienna ! I almost envy Rob his rapture 


106 


when he meets his mother. How I wish that I was to meet you, 
dear mamma. However I must rejoice with him, for he is a dear 
old fellow and invaluable to 

Your affectionate son, 

Clarence G. Urban.” 

When Clarence had finished this letter, he folded it, and af- 
ter sealing and directing the envelope proceeded to gather to- 
gether his possessions, and in so doing noticed me and imme- 
diately thrust me back into my prison. 

The next day at 8 o’clock, a. m., they bade farewell to Frank- 
fort-on-Main and steamed away toward Heidelburg. The view of 
the castle as they approached the town was very magnificient, 
and the young men could scarcely restrain their feelings so awe 
inspiring was the scene. About io o’clock the train stopped at 
Heidelberg, and with little delay Clarence secured a carriage and 
drove out to the castle. 

The ascent to the castle was steep, but having arrived at the 
top of the eminence Robert declared the prospect to be divine, 
and Clarence seconded the assertion. The River Neckar, like a 
silver thread in the verdant landscape, added an agreeable 
variety to the scene. 

But the gardens of the palace were now at hand, and after 
paying the usual fee (which gave me a chance to peep out) Clar- 
ence led the way through the gardens to the massive gate of the 
castle. Entering through this gateway we came into a large 
courtyard surrounded by the ruins of splendid buildings, beauti- 
fully carved and decorated with statues of the old electors. 

As the boys roamed through the ruined halls of the palace, 
Clarence remarked that it required the utmost stretch of his im- 
agination for him to think of all these ruins as magnificient build- 
ings richly furnished, but Robert with his powerful imagination 
had simply to close his eyes to bring the whole scene back. Such 
is the power of the magic wand of imagination. 

The guide finally told them that by paying an additional fee, 
they could descend into the cellars. The' fee was immediately 
paid and my master and Rob entered the cellar and beheld the 



IOI 


famous Heidelberg tun, which is an immense barrel, and when 
filled contains 283,000 bottles of wine. 

In this cellar and near the tun, the boys laughed heartily at a 
wooden figure of Clemens Perkeo, the court jester, whose only 
claim to fame is that he drank from fifteen to eighteen bottles of 
wine daily and always retired drunk. 

After leaving the cellars the boys decided to climb still far- ' 
ther up the hill to what is called the Molkeneur (whey cure) 306 
feet above the castle. They made the ascent by a shady foot 
path and were rewarded for their energy by one of the most mag- 
nificent views in the world. The old castle immediately below 
them would have been a feast for any beauty loving soul, but far 
beyond they could see the valleys of the Rhine and the Neckar. 

We returned to Heidelberg by carriage (both boys being 
greatly fatigued) and were finally comfortably settled in the pen- 
sion, where the boys rested during the remainder of the evening. 

The following day was spent in visiting the famous Uni- 
versity of Heidelberg, which next to that of Prague, is the oldest 
in Europe. Being college boys, my master and Robert were 
naturally interested in all schools especially the famous ones, but 
as I had no opportunity of seeing the buildings, I cannot tell you 
anything about them, excepting that Clarence remarked that 
they were very plain. 

Munich was our next stopping place, and no sooner did they 
set foot in that city than they started for a hotel, and after secur- 
ing rooms and inspecting their trunks, which they had not seen 
for some weeks, they sallied out to see the town. 

Robert was so completely lost in happy anticipations of his 
visit to Vienna, that my master declared he never knew him to be 
so uncompanionable. This rebuke aroused Rob from his reverie 
long enough to allow him to join Clarence in admiring the 
famous sculptures collected in the Glyptothek, but we had scarcely 
left this building, when he again fell to musing; and while he 
effected to see and admire the beautiful city, as he passed through 
it, Clarence felt quite sure that his friend was oblivious to his 
surroundings. I had a few glances at Munich, and thought it a 
most delightful city. 


102 


During our short stay there, my master and Robert visited 
the great International Exposition and met some American 
friends. They were much pleased to meet these people, for while 
they had made some delightful acquaintances during their tour 
these were the first old friends they had seen. As the party was 
composed of a lady and gentleman and their two young lady 
daughters, Robert was quite in his element, and as Clarence told 
him afterwards “flirted desperately” with those girls. Of course 
the young people saw a great deal of each other while in Munich. 

The afternoon of the day on which the boys went to the ex- 
position was spent in visiting the Pinacothek w’here they saw 
many beautiful pictures and were pleased as they always were 
with fine art. 

The new Pinacothek was also visited, but nothing note- 
worthy occurred. 

We returned to the hotel early, and the boys were glad that 
their trunks were there so that they could make themselves pre- 
sentable. 

Their toilet was rather lengthy, and having often seen them 
in their “best bib and tucker” I doubted not that they were calcu- 
lated to play havoc with the hearts of the fair damsels whose 
company they expected to enjoy that evening. 

At the appointed time an elegant carriage drew up in front 
of the hotel where the Brewers were stopping, and doubtless the 
hearts of the feminine part of the group gave a throb of expecta- 
tion as two as handsome gentlemen as could be found on the 
Continent, attired in becoming style, alighted and advanced to 
meet them. Rob, as I have said before, was in his element and 
chatted gaily with the girls, but Clarence after paying his respects 
to the ladies, finally inagurated a conversation with their papa on 
business subjects, and Robert held the fort alone. A very 
pleasant addition had been made to the party since morning, in 
the person of Miss Ida Branch, a cousin of the Brewers. I did 
not have an opportunity of seeing her at the time they were in- 
troduced, but as I have since had that pleasure I shall gratify 
your curiosity in regard to her appearance as well as to that of 
the entire 'group, much sooner, I assure you, than mine was grati- 


lo 3 


fied. Miss Ida was a blond whose complexion was of the trans- 
parent type so seldom found; and while a most exquisite pink 
clothed her cheek, I knew that art had no part in its make-up, for 
I saw the color come and go within a very short interval, which 
to my mind was abundant proof of its genuineness. But her eyes 
“glorified her whole countenance” as Robert said to Clarence. 

Her cousins were both brunettes, whose features were so 
similar that a description of one will suffice for both. 

Their complexions at first glance, compared favorably with 
Ida’s, but after a few peeps at them, I could not help discovering 
that the pink on the cheeks of the Misses Brewer was unchang- 
able. Their eyes were brown but not expressive. In fact the 
young ladies possessed about the same style of beauty as wax 
dolls, and a comparison as to brains would have been equally 
favorable. 

But I fear I have digressed from my narrative to an un- 
pardonable degree. 

To return, therefore, to the veranda of the hotel. I learned 
about this time that although the weather was almost too warm, 
there was to be a little dance that evening, and while Rob would 
not have dared to “tip the light fantastic toe” at home, here in 
far off Munich with a beautiful girl for a companion, he forgot 
his severe dignity for the evening and was soon enjoying a waltz 
with Miss Ida. It was plain to be seen that the Misses Brewer 
were deeply chagrined, because they were not chosen by Rob- 
ert to accompany him in the first dance, but Clarence came to 
the rescue at last and devoted himself to the wax dolls with the 
air of a martyr. 

Tate that night two young men alighted in front of a certain 
hotel, and entering their rooms were soon ready for bed. Rob- 
ert was now eloquent in the praises of Miss Branch, and Clarence, 
having a chance to tease took a heartless pleasure in so doing. 

The next morning the young men visited the royal stables 
and were surprised at the magnificent steeds kept by Bavaria’s 
crazy king. 

The museum was also visited, but I did not see it. 


io4 


That evening Clarence complained of great fatigue and re- 
tired early; but Robert declared his intention of visiting their 
friends, the Brewers, and Clarence added, “give my respects to 
Miss Ida.’ 1 

It was very late when Robert returned, but he contrived not 
to awaken Clarence whose lack of romantic feeling allowed him 
to snore while so much feminine beauty was near at hand. Rob 
could evidently not understand such a lack of appreciation upon 
the part of his friend. But finally he too fell asleep to dream of 
— may I venture to guess, Ida Branch? 

They rose very early in the morning, and my master, who 
was the most thoughtful fellow I ever saw, suggested that they 
call on their friends before leaving for Nuremberg. It is needless 
to say that Robert eagerly consented. Consequently after break- 
fast they saw their trunks safely on their way to the depot, and 
then we went to the hotel. The young ladies had just break- 
fasted, but while it was very early they were pleased to see the 
gentlemen, but sorry that they were going to leave; and in the 
midst of a general conversation that irrepressible Robert strolled 
off with Miss Branch to the remotest corner of the veranda. 

Clarence, however, threw himself into the breach and talked 
so fluently and made so many complimentary remarks that the 
young Miss Brewer actually did not have time to be angry at 
Robert’s desertion. 

Clarence was at last compelled to call Robert, as it was draw- 
ing alarmingly near train time, and bidding a reluctant farewell 
to Miss Branch and Munich, Rob followed Clarence. 

The ride to Nuremberg was about four hours in duration, 
but finally the quaint old town came in sight, and the boys re- 
paired to the hotel. The remainder of the morning was spent in 
writing, and Clarence teased Robert unmercifully when he dis- 
covered that one of the letters was directed to “Miss Ida Branch, 
Munich.” 

The first place visited in Nuremberg was the St. Lawrence 
Church which was originally Catholic but is now Lutheran. 
They did not remain here long, as only one day had been allotted 
to Nuremberg, and they now turned their faces toward the 


Octagonal tower. Arrived at this place they explored the most 
interesting parts of it, and Rob said that his blood ran cold at the 
sight of the instruments of torture therein. Among them was one 
called the Iron Virgin, which is of iron in the form of a woman 
with two doors opening into it. The inside is full of spikes and 
there are two in the head. When the victim was placed in it, the 
doors were slowly closed, and of course the spikes ran into him. 
After he became quiet the doors were opened, and the victim fell 
eighteen feet below on knives. I had an opportunity of seeing 
this fearful evidence of the cruelty of which human nature is 
capable, as Clarence opened his purse for some purpose just at 
that time, and I could not conceive of anything so dreadful being 
done in the name of Christianity . 

The boys, whose keen sensibility was tortured at the sight of 
the Iron Virgin, soon left the tower, and after seeing an old well 
which was so deep that lights had to be lowered to see the water, 
the two friends returned to the hotel and ate their lunch with a 
relish. 

The afternoon passed without incident, and the evening was 
spent at a little party given by some Americans who were at the 
hotel. 

The ride to Dresden the following morning was long and 
tedious, but like all things good or bad it at last came to an end. 

A visit to the Zwinger was the one treat the young men had 
promised themselves in Dresden, and it proved to be a treat in- 
deed, for among other beautiful paintings two world famous 
works of art are found in this gallery: “The Sistine Madonna” and 
“The Holy Night.” 

I really thought that those boys would never quit the gallery, 
for again and yet again would they return to those pictures and 
rave over their beauty. 

Fate that day was not propitious to me, and I remained an 
unsatisfied auditor of their remarks, hoping vainly for the 
privilege of seeing the beauty of the pictures. 

However, when we quitted the gallery, Clarence proposed a 
tour of the shops, and I had ample opportunities for viewing the 
outside world, for he made an unusual number of purchases in 


io6 

Dresden, but I could not blame his seeming extravagance for the 
display of rare china was enough to set any feminine heart to 
beating a trifle faster, and Clarence, sagacious lad, knew that there 
could be no better way to win the approval of his idolized 
mamma than by taking her a few specimens of “genuine Dresden 
china.” 

After their purchases were made, the young men returned to 
the hotel and started in the morning for Prague. 

My next peep at the world outside was the one I got of the 
Custom House on the boundary between Germany and Austria, 
and here my pocket companions were changed and instead of 
marks, pfennings, etc., (which are the names of the German coins 
with whom I had been associated since I was carried on shore of 
the Continent.) I was surrounded by Austrian coins called 
florins. Being ignorant of the country I hoped now that I would 
again experience the felicity of communicating with beings of my 
own kind, but I soon discovered to my disappointment that' the 
florins were as hopelessly German as the pfennings, and I fore- 
saw no change for the better. I might mention that I soon 
learned that these coins were worth 42 cents each in American 
money, or in other words I am worth as much as two of them, 
but in less time than it takes to tell it, I was once more shut up 
in Clarence’s pocket, and launched upon the sea of Austrian 
adventure whose whirls and eddies, whose storms and calms, 
shall be duly recorded in the following chapter. 


AUSTRIA. 

CHAPTER X. 

After leaving the Custom House, we traveled first to 
Prague, and Robert jubilantly remarked that this was the last 
stopping place before he should reach Vienna. 

As he was in such a flutter of excitement, Clarence said that 
they would make a very short stay in Prague, but that they must 
visit the celebrated Hungry Tower. They accordingly made it 
the object of their quest as soon as they had obtained rooms at a 
hotel. 

The Hungry Tower (as I learned that day) is built in the 
shape of a bottle, and the opening is at the top. Dungeons were 
below this tower, and prisoners used to be starved to death in 
them. Still further down than the dungeons is the place where 
the dead are buried, and Clarence actually had the hardihood to 
go down there and hunt around until he found a skull which he 
bore triumphantly up stairs, declaring that he was going to take 
it home and give it to a medical friend of his. Rob laughed at 
him and said that he would not pay the duty on such a worthless 
thing, and Clarence retorted that they didn’t ‘'charge for dead- 
heads ” I did not see how my master could touch a skull, for I 
am very much averse to the society of such things, though 
some of our monetary fraternity have been known to lie on the 
eye lids of the dead, and, atrocious act, have been stolen from 
thence by the living. Alter the adventure at Hungry Tower, my 
master insisted upon hurrying back to the hotel and putting his 
hollow-eyed find under lock and key. 

It really seemed as if my master was courting the society of 
ghosts that day, for no sooner had they eaten their lunch than he 
said in a very decided tone, “We will now visit, the old Jewish 
cemetery.” I did not think that Robert wanted to go, but of 


io8 


course he had to acquiesce, and away they went to the cemetery 
upon whose mortuary curiosities Clarence made many sage re- 
marks. The tombstones, marking the graves, told to which tribe 
the Jew there buried belonged, and by careful comparison the 
boys found that a pitcher marks the tribe of Levi, two hands the 
descendants of Aaron, etc. Leaving the cemetery I waS carried 
by my master to the Karlsbruke, or Karl’s bridge. This bridge 
was built by money exacted as a fine from a Jew for reviling the 
cross in 1606. A bronze statue of St. John Nepomic, the patron 
saint of Bohemia, and thirty other statues adorn the buttresses of 
the bridge, but as it is so famous, a detailed description of it 
would not be necessary even if I were in a position to give it, 
which, owing to my usual restrictions, I am not. 

There were other places that my master would have liked to 
have seen in Prague, but he had promised Robert that they would 
start for Vienna on the ensuing day, and he dared not disappoint 
him. 

Accordingly the next morning found Robert up bright and 
early. In fact he rose before the sun, so intense was his excite- 
ment, and as train time drew near his face seemed to grow 
brighter every moment. But the time at last arrived, and the 
Vienna train carried one of the happiest passengers it had ever 
transported. Clarence was pleased too, but complained of a 
severe headache. These had been bothering him for several 
weeks, and Robert was very anxious about him. But on this 
happy morning Robert’s heart was in Vienna. 

The journey seemed thrice its real length, but it finally came 
to an end. When the train steamed into Vienna Robert’s cheeks 
were all aglow with excitement, his dark eyes sparkled, and be- 
neath his black mustache there lingered a happy smile. Clarence 
was joyous too, because of the consciousness that he had made it 
possible for Robert to meet his mother in this distant land. 

When the train stopped, both boys alighted as soon as 
possible, and for a moment Robert peered anxiously into the faces 
of the crowd, and then with his eyes riveted to a certain feminine 
bonnet, he pulled Clarence by the arm and said excitedly, “There 
she is, follow me,” Just at this moment Clarence was called up- 


IO<? 


on to pay the man who was to carry the trunks to the hotel, and I 
had the much coveted chance of beholding Robert’s mother, and 
the moment I saw her I felt that Robert had been justified in all 
that he had ever said about her. Hers was a really beautiful 
face. She had a dark, lustrous eyes, a great deal like Robert’s, 
only possessing depths that his could never boast. Hers was a 
lofty brow, caressed by a few raven tresses, just sprinkled with 
silver, and upon which were lines of care drawn there by grief’s 
grim artist years ago. But even in the brief space occupied in 
paying the hack driver, I saw by Mrs. Howard’s side a sight 
which almost transfixed me. For with one slender hand on the 
arm of her chaperon and the other holding a parcel or two, stood 
no other person than my old mistress, Margaret Howe. Ah, had 
I been a human being then instead of a helpless silver dollar, it 
is just possible that a deeper red would have mantled the oval 
cheek and a little more animation have intruded itself into her 
voice, for my greeting would have been a hearty (and had she 
permitted it) a most affectionate one. But just as I had satisfied 
myself that it was really Margaret herself, Clarence closed his 
purse and plunged me into the depths of his pocket and of 
despair at one and the same time. In the meantime, Robert, re- 
gardless of the assembled crowd had bestowed upon his mother a 
series of bear-like hugs which were no doubt amusing to lookers- 
on, but which to me were really affecting. Then stepping back 
he drew Clarence forward, and with a voice full of pride, presented 
him to Mrs. Howard. With tenderness in her voice and no 
doubt one of her bewitching motherly smiles, she greeted the 
benefactor and intimate friend of her dear Robert. Then ; 
recollecting herself, she presented Margaret to both gentlemen, 
and the four repaired to a carriage which was awaiting them. 
They were driven to the hotel where Mrs. Howard and Miss 
Howe boarded, and where the former had secured rooms for the 
boys. Robert and his mother were so wrapped up in each other 
that Clarence and Margaret were absolutely forgotten, but my mas- 
ter always equal to an emergency, kept up an animated conversa- 
tion with his new acquaintance, whom he had just met for the first 
time but whom I knew, oh so well. When the carriage stopped, Mrs. 


116 


Howard and Robert finally became conscious of their surround- 
ings and alighted with the others. Then when Clarence paid the 
driver, I caught a peep at Margaret again. This time I noticed a 
change in her face, which while I regretted it a trifle, was very 
becoming. When she spent me for fruit that spring morning 
long ago, the face that looked down at me was a girlish one, 
pretty but immature, the blue eyes sparkled brightly, the mouth 
smiled gaily, and a bonny little girl it was who gave me into the 
dirty hands of the fruit vender. But now after these six years, 
the face bore enough of its original appearance to warrant me in 
asserting that it belonged to Margaret, even if she had not been 
introduced to my master as Miss Howe of New York, thus con- 
firming my belief. But the eyes had an expression now that they 
did not know before; they were still the same clear blue but a 
deep thoughtfulness had usurped the former gaiety, and her 
whole form had acquired a womanly dignity. But ere I could 
notice any more, that unfeeling purse again closed and left me 
worse than blind. So it is I have often noticed with the fortunes 
of men; no sooner have they caught sight of what to them is per- 
fect enjoyment, than misfortune closes around them and their 
happiness is' gone. It is, .1 believe, much the same with men as 
with silver dollars. The present is all they have, the future is a 
mystery. I am referring, of course, to worldly matters. 

But while I am making this comparison and thereby tiring 
my silvern brain, which at best is very shallow, my master had 
carried me into his own apartment where he was soon joined by 
the excited Robert. And now as they were the guests of ladies, 
the young men gave special attention to their attire. Clarence 
donned a black suit, and his dark hair, which would curl slightly, 
was brushed with a degree of attention it had not received for 
many a long day. In fact, while his grey tourist’s suit had been 
neat, appropriate and passably becoming, he was now his hand- 
some self again, and Robert, having subjected his person to simi- 
lar treatment made a dangerous rival in the way of good looks. 

That evening Clarence suggested to Robert that they escort 
the ladies to the theatre, but as Margaret was on duty at the hos- 
pital, Mrs. Howard staid at home, and the two young men sallied 


TIT 


out alone. On their way to the Hof-Oper, as they call it in 
Vienna, they made an agreement that they would speak German 
the entire evening, so I know very little of their observations up- 
on that particular occasion, truth is, I scarcely think that any 
native German could have understood the German they used, 
much less an American dollar. The play too was in German. 
There being, therefore, nothing to interest me outside, I turned 
myself to the companions of my own kind. I had been so inter- 
ested in the affairs of my master and his friend since we entered 
Austria, that I had neglected my new companions until that very 
moment. But alas, I was denied the poor satisfaction of quarrel- 
ing with a Victoria head or striving to keep peace between the 
British lion and American eagle. Coins new and strange greeted 
me upon either hand, whose words while silvery were hopelessly 
German. Bereft alike of sight and the power to understand what 
was spoken, . I felt “like one who treads alone, some banquet hall 
deserted.” I wished heartily that I was back again in the United 
States where my value would be recognized and I would be legal 
tender, but wishes are not horses in Vienna^ any more than they 
are in America, so I summoned all the patience left me, and — 
waited for something to happen. 

After returning from the theatre, the young men conde- 
scended to speak in their native tongue again, and I had the con- 
solation of hearing from Robert’s lips the cause of Margaret’s 
presence in Vienna, and strange to say the information was 
given after many and repeated inquiries from Clarence. I shall 
not give the dialogue verbatim, but simply give you the substance 
of the conversation. “I have learned all about her from mamma. 
In the first place” (here he gave a report of Margaret’s life when 
she was a child and until the day of his mother’s lecture. With 
this you are already familiar, so I will quote Robert from the 
time when I was spent and thus lost sight of her.) 

“After she came home from my mother’s lecture, she told 
her mother that she had decided to be a physician, and that it 
would be necessary for them to move to New York. This they 
' did in the course of a few weeks, and Margaret entered the Med- 
ical College. She was a close student and when she received the 


112 


diploma, which made an M. D. of her, she ranked among the 
first of her class. During the last year of her college training, 
her mother fell ill and died. She was thus left entirely alone in 
the world, and her plans for coming to Vienna to school seemed 
blasted. But by-and-by she thought of my mother, with whom 
she had kept up a correspondence since the day of the lecture, 
when they fell in love with each other, and now in her sore dis- 
tress she wrote to mamma, asking her to be her chaperon across 
the seas. Now mamma had a paying position as Professor in the 
College, but the affecting appeal of Margaret Howe went straight 
to her heart, and she left all and followed Margaret. Margaret 
received her degree here last year but is now in the hospital 
where she is becoming more skillful every day.” As Robert 
ceased speaking, Clarence said simply, “what a noble creature 
your mother is.” 

While Robert had gratified his friend’s curiosity, he had also 
satisfied mine, and in a few words I had learned the whole story 
of Margaret Howe, but neither you nor I, dear reader, know of 
the many heart-aches and discouragements that came to that 
sweet young girl during those years of preparation. I know, 
though, that they did come. They come to every young woman 
who starts out to battle with the world. . I have traveled over a 
great many miles, have been in the possession of many a young 
girl, and I have an opportunity to know about these trials and 
tribulations of which the world knows nothing. Especially could 
I imagine the terrible grief which came into Margaret’s heart 
when her mother was taken from her. But I was happy to 
know that that brave, courageous, noble mother of Robert’s had 
taken this child of many prayers under her motherly wing and 
allowed her love to overcome every obstacle. 

“Miss Howe,” continued Robert, “expects to remain two 
more years here in the hospital, but mamma says that she is 
already a skilled physician, and has cured many cases in this city.” 

Clarence exhibited an interest in Margeret for which I could 
not account, and he asked many questions about her which Robert 
could not answer. In fact Rob even ventured to suggest that 
Clarence’s interest in the young physician was rather more in- 


tense than he could have thought possible upon such short 
acquaintance. This caused my master to recollect himself, and 
he immediately changed the conversation, and to all outward 
appearances the fair physician was forgotten. 

The next day was Sunday and was as fair as a September 
day can be in Vienna, and as Margaret was free from her studies, 
the four started out to hear the famous church music at the 
Burgfarracapelle. This church is adorned with paintings by 
Schnorr and others. Over the high altar, “The Fall of the 
Angels,” executed in stucco was much admired by my master 
and Miss Howe. Mrs. Howard and her son were still so absorbed 
in each other that everything else passed unnoticed. The music 
seemed to entrance Margaret, although, she had often heard it 
before, and while my master had frequently expressed himself in 
my hearing, as caring little for music, seemed that particular 
morning, to be lifted above material things, and to be floating in 
rarified atmosphere which he had never breathed before. This 
inspiration was caused (I took him at his word) by the music. 

When they returned to the hotel the quartette did justice to 
the lunch which was awaiting them. 

In the afternoon Clarence proposed a drive, but as a patient 
called Margaret away, the plan was abandoned and he staid at 
home. 

That evening Mrs. Howard complained of a headache, and 
as Robert could not be persuaded to leave her, Clarence gallantly 
proposed to Miss Margaret that she accompany him to church, 
and for the first time my master and Margaret were alone. 

When they returned from church they found Mrs. Howard 
much improved and Robert's face wearing a relieved expression. 

All being weary, they retired early to rest, but before going 
to sleep Clarence remarked cautiously to Robert that he rather 
admired Miss Howe, to which Robert retorted “You needn’t have 
told me that.” This caused Clarence to say something about 
the weather, and nothing further about Margaret. 

About midnight Robert was awakened by a low moan, and 
hastily rising and striking a light, he saw Clarence staring 
strangely at him with a face so pale that he was frightened. 


“Why, Urban, what’s the matter?” he stammered. Clarence 
could only murmur “I’m so sick Rob, but don’t worry, I’ll be bet- 
ter soon.” But Robert did worry, and gave Clarence every at- 
tention he possibly could, but still the paleness remained, and 
Clarence murmured continually, “Oh my poor head, my poor 
head.” At last Robert determined to go for a doctor, and just as 
he opened the door to depart Clarence called feebly after him, 
“Bring Dr. Howe.” Some little time elapsed before Robert re- 
turned and during his absence Clarence moaned incessantly, 
tossed from side to side and was evidently suffering intensely. 

By and by footsteps were heard in the hall outside, and in a 
moment I heard Margaret’s voice giving directions as to what 
was to be done in a quiet, unassuming, but positive tone. Then 
after asking Clarence a few questions, which for the frenzy into 
which pain had wrought him, he could scarcely answer, she left 
the room, telling Robert to keep perfect quiet. When she re- 
turned I heard her ask Clarence to swallow some medicine, and 
then leaving directions as to the time the dose must be repeated 
she left them, saying that if he grew worse to call her instantly. 

So ended the first visit that Dr. Margaret paid to my mas- 
ter’s bedside. Who could say that night as they looked upon 
that pale, haggard face, made whiter still by the dark 
hair above it, when would be the last? Ah, for weeks, so many in 
number that my poor, metal brain could not count them, my be- 
loved master lay in his room, patient but suffering. Margaret 
called several times a day, and did all that medical skill, aided by 
the magic touch of a woman’s hand, could do. Once or twice she 
brought with her a professor from the college, always desiring 
that he make any suggestions he deemed best, but the good old 
physician would shake his head and say, “Miss Margaret, you 
have made no mistake, you are treating the case properly; and 
while this is a tedious disease, you will see the reward of your 
labors by and by, unless some unforeseen change shall take place.’’ 
And thus it was that Margaret took my master’s life in her own 
hands. Whether she was equal to the task remains to be seen. 

Robert and his mother were constant watchers at the bed- 
side. 


Robert staid with his friend during the long night vigils, and 
during the day dear Mrs. Howard watched over my master as 
tenderly as his own mother could have done. Margaret came 
and went, more frequently it seemed to me than the majority of 
physicians do; and her face would grow grave when she bent 
over her patient, and once I saw her lips tremble and a tear dim 
the blue eye, but no one else saw that. 

The way / happened to see it was this. On the very next 
morning after Clarence took sick, Robert wanted to make some 
change, and not being able to do so from his own purse, he 
opened Clarence’s and took out some money. Just as he did so 
Clarence uttered a cry of pain, and Robert dropped the purse on 
the table, and I rolled out. Of course Robert did not know it, 
and during all his sickness I lay where I had a view of the whole 
room. 

As the feyer grew worse Margaret came still more frequently, 
and watched more anxiously every symptom of her patient. As I 
saw her stand by my master’s bedside, with her beautiful face 
clouded, and her eyes turned steadily upon his countenance, I 
thought to myself, “Ah brave little woman, thou art made of 
‘sterner stuff’ than some of thy sisters I have known, and I would 
that there were many others like thee.” Mrs. Howard always 
gave him his medicine, and that was no small task, for in his de- 
lirious ravings, Clarence was not the gentle, passive master I had 
known so long. His face was a dull red and his usually smooth 
combed locks lay in unkempt confusion on his brow. So day 
succeeded day, and night followed night, and there was no 
change. The mother and son talked anxiously about him, and 
Margaret was more attentive than ever. But one evening after 
he had been ill about two weeks, Margaret and Dr. Graham (the 
professor from the University) entered together, and after looking 
at my master and inquiring of Mrs. Howard how he had been 
during the day, the two doctors held a whispered conversation, 
and Margaret then told Mrs. Howard that they would sit up with 
Robert that night as the crisis would surely come near midnight. 
Mrs. Howard remonstrated saying that Margaret would be worn 
out by morning, but Margaret answered her kindly but firmly 


that she must stay with her patient that night. So it was settled. 
During the fore part of the night the three watchers conversed 
in undertones, glancing frequently at my master who lay in a 
sort of stupor. Shortly. before twelve Margaret motioned to the 
other doctor, and he stepped softly to the bedside and both 
looked intently at my master’s face. At first no change was visi- 
ble, but by and by his eyes opened; there was a gleam of return- 
ing intelligence in them; an-d a change swept over his face. The 
expression of pain seemed to die away, and in its place came a 
contented smile. He raised his eyes by and by, and as they met 
Margaret’s, he murmered, “Dr. Howe.” Both doctors smiled in- 
voluntarily, and Margaret whispered, “Thank God, Dr. Graham, 
our patient is saved.” “Yes,” answered Dr. Graham, “he is saved 
and your vigilance is rewarded.” Slowly my master’s heavy eye- 
lids closed over those great brown eyes, and he fell into a peace- 
ful sleep; the first since he had been ill. Robert heard the news 
with a silent rapture, and a happy smile lit up his face. 

When morning dawned' Margaret (who had retired about two 
o’clock) came tip-toeing into the room and prepared some medi- 
cine for Clarence to take. When she entered Robert went to call 
his mother, and she was soon with Margaret. Clarence soon 
opened his eyes, and again as they had done the night before, 
they sought Margaret’s. She was leaning over him watching 
anxiously. At first he seemed surprised, and would have spoken 
but she forbade and placed some medicine to his lips. He swal- 
lowed it mechanically. Placed under the ban of silence he lay 
looking at Margaret as she flitted about the room, no doubt won- 
dering why he was there and under her care, and a thousand 
other things. Mrs. Howard sat on one side of his bed, fanning 
him. He looked wonderingly at her, but did not speak. 

A few days later when Robert was spending an hour with 
him, Mrs. Howard having gone down town, Clarence drew from 
him a reluctant recital of his illness. Of course Margaret was of- 
ten mentioned, and Clarence always smiled when she was spoken 
of. 

It was several weeks after this before Clarence was well 
enough to sit in an easy chair in his room, and during those 


IZ 7 


weeks Margaret watched over him so tenderly, so carefully, and 
so anxiously that it is not strange that he waited eagerly for 
evening to come, as it always brought Margaret. As soon as 
she returned from the hospital she would drop in a moment to 
see the “poor fellow,” and often read to him while waiting for 
dinner. And how Clarence enjoyed it. Even a silver dollar like 
myself could see that, for having been carried in his purse all 
those months I fancied I knew him pretty well, sufficiently so at 
least to know that he was far from displeased with his physician. 
But while I could not fail to perceive the pleased smile that 
illumined the transparent cheek whenever Margaret approached, 
it was far beyond my powers of discernment to frame for myself 
a satisfactory solution to the enigma. Grateful of course he 
must be, but was that a smile of gratitude alone? I could not 
conscientiously answer, yes. He of course must admire the in- 
dependence and fearlessness of the girl whose history he had 
learned bit by bit from Robert and his mother, but again the 
query — Was his intense longing for Margaret’s coming occasioned 
entirely by mere admiration? Again my better judgement 
answered, nay. These and a thousand other reasons rose before 
me, but each and all to be rejected. At one time love suggested 
itself but this seemed the most unlikely of them all. Surely my 
master who had said so often in my hearing that he would never 
marry, though he admired ladies and always did homage to 
womanhood, surely he had not fallen in love ! Oh, no, the 
thought was so irresistibly funny to me that I almost broke the 
silence by a silvern laugh. But if all these surmises were wrong, 
then my problem was still unsolved, and for the first time I 
found myself unable to understand my master. 

During the days of his convalescence, the lines surely “fell 
in pleasant places.” He dictated long letters to his parents in 
which he dwelt but lightly upon the sufferings he had endured 
and only mentioned the fact that he was recovering rapidly. 
Robert did not tell him that every day while he was tossing his 
delirious head upon the downy pillows, a cablegram had been 
sent to that anxious mother across the sea who cheerfully paid 
the exorbitant price for a message about her boy. Robert’s 


n8 


uiDther had suggested the first one for she knew better than 
either of the boys what anxiety comes to a mother’s heart when 
a beloved child is sick in a far country. [I knew all about this 
for I heard Robert tell Margaret about it m a whisper as they 
stood near my table.] 

So Mrs. Urban was not deceived by the hopeful letters, but 
she admired her boy for being so careful not to alarm her. 

And so the days passed by, and spring time was gladdening 
hillside and glen, when Clarence with a thankful heart took his 
purse from the table, dropped me into it and walked out into the 
sunshine. Robert was awaiting him, and leaning on the arm of 
his friend, Clarence walked slowly but surely. So strict had 
been the doctor’s orders that Clarence was not allowed to step 
out of the door until the faintest chance of a relapse had disap- 
peared. Clarence was as anxious to see Vienna as he had been 
before he fell ill, and as at present he must be contented with 
a few hours a day in the open air, he resolved to make the best 
of his privilege. So they hired a carriage and were driven 
around the city whose beautiful edifices quite charmed my 
master. 

St. Stephen’s church was our destination that particular 
morning, and when the imposing structure rose before the boys 
Clarence uttered an exclamation of delight. I learned from the 
conversation of the young men that the whole building is of 
solid limestone and built in the form of a Latin cross. 

Alighting from the carriage, they entered the church and 
Clarence enjoyed sight-seeing with a keen relish after having 
been shut up so long in one small room. Among other things 
noted in this church was the central altar with an altar-piece 
representing the Stoning of Saint Stephen. In front of the steps 
which lead to the vestry the boys noticed a stone which the 
guide said closed the entrance to the old burial vault of the 
soverigns of Austria. He also told them that for the last two 
hundred years these sovereigns have been buried elsewhere, in 
the church of the Capuchins. The sarcophagus of the Emperor 
Frederick III in red and white marble is very elaborate. Below 
the church are catacombs, and from its tower a beautiful view of 


the country may be had, so the guard told them, but Clarence 
was already becoming weary, and these last named sights were 
postponed until he felt stronger. A pleasant drive around the 
Ring-strasse brought them to their destination, and after paying 
the driver, they dismissed the carriage and entered the house. 
Lunch was awaiting them and of this they partook heartily. Clar- 
ence was improving rapidly and every one was happy. Each day 
now the friends went sight .seeing, sometimes alone and some- 
times with Mrs. Howard. Margaret was too. busy to go with 
them often, though they always invited her, and Clarence in par- 
ticular was always anxious for her company. Sometimes his 
tones became dangerously near being tender, but while Margaret 
always thanked him kindly and expressed a desire to go, she was 
a devoted slave of the hospital, and nothing could induce her to 
waste her time. Occasionally she had a leisure afternoon, how- 
ever, and upon one of these she accepted an invitation from my 
master to visit the Schonbrunn Gardens. And beautiful old gardens 
they are. The flowers, the trees, the fountains, would of themselves 
make the place enchanting, but the old Roman ruins whose 
crumbling columns and dismantled statuary are moss grown and 
ivy covered, lend a delicious air of romance to the place. So 
many royal courtships have been carried on these gardens, so 
many royal lovers have wooed their high-born sweethearts be- 
neath these venerable shades, that one almost expects to see a 
royal pair come shyly out from some shady nook or moss grown 
grotto, for all the world like ordinary lovers. It was among these 
surroundings and under very peculiar circumstances that I again 
saw the outer world. After going off on delightful little explor- 
ing tours among the decaying buildings, or wandering aimlessly 
through forests of flowers and vines, my master came suddenly 
upon the mo it charming little sylvan retreat they had yet seen. 
The branches of a graceful elm shaded a rustic seat, and all 
about the place were classic columns and graceful statues. In 
fact so quiet, so secluded was the place that one might easily 
have imagined himself transported into the very heart of a lonely 
forest. Here my master and Margaret sank into the open arms 
of a rustic sleepy hollow and fell to talking. The themes upon 


120 


which they conversed were many, and (to me) marvelous. Yet 
Dr. Howe appeared to be conversant upon them all. At last they 
began to speak of America, and Margaret talked lovingly, I 
thought almost longingly of her native land, in one of whose 
cemeteries her mother was buried and in another the bones of 
her old Uncle Jonas were taking their long rest. They talked of 
Washington’s birthday, the Fourth of July, etc, etc, and finally 
the conversation drifted into commercial channels, and money 
became their theme. From the discussion of money as a medium 
of exchange they fell to talking of money itself. “Did you ever 
visit the Philadelphia Mint, Miss Margaret?” asked Clarence, and 
then without giving her a 'chance to reply he continued, “I was 
there once to sell some silver bullion which I brought with me 
from a mine in which I own an interest. It is situated in Utah 
and is called Eureka Mine.” [How excited I became when he 
said that. I was some of that silver bullion, and how little he 
suspected that he carried a dollar made from that very silver]. “I 
think the process of coining very interesting and watched it 
closely. I saw some of the crude, raw, silver pass through the 
Mint, and come out a bright, shining silver dollar.” “How 
lovely,” exclaimed Margaret, “I would like to see a similar sight, 
in fact I would be glad just now even to see a silver dollar; it has 
been so long since I saw one.” “Why, I believe,” said Clarence, 
“that I have a dollar in my pocket, and by the way, since I think 
of it, the reason I happen to have it is that it bears somebody’s 
monogram. I forget what the letters are.” “Let me see 
it, will you?” Margaret exclaimed, with so much animation in her 
voice that Clarence was astonished. “Certainly,” Clarence re- 
plied, and opening his purse he took me out and handed me to her. 
She immediately turned me over and cried excitedly, “why this 
dollar once belonged to me. These are my initials and I had 
them engraved there one day about six years ago. How little I 
expected ever to see this dollar again, and especially in Vienna. 
Where did you get it? How long have you had it? And what 
will you take for it? Margaret asked these three questions with 
such haste that Clarence was almost at a loss to know what to 
say, but answered presently. “To your first question I would 


121 


say in a muddy gutter, to the second about two years and six 
months, and to the third — ” Here he stopped and to my utmost 
surprise, his face grew uncomfortably red, and he seemed greatly 
embarrassed. Margaret was surprised too and said, “Well, I 
should like to hear the third, for I am anxious to get this dollar.” 
Clarence slowly raised his eyes to hers, and speaking very low 
said, “You may have it on one condition and that is— is— ” “Go 
on,” said Margaret, “I shall certainly comply with the condition.” 
“Will you really, Miss Margaret,” he exclaimed eagerly? “Why 
certainly, if I possibly can.” “Well then I’ll tell you. The con- 
dition is that you take me too .” Margaret’s big blue eyes 
stared at him in unconcealed surprise, and she was about to speak 
when he prevented her by saying, “Forgive me for telling you in 
such an abrupt manner, but I thought it was such a splendid 
opportunity that I siezed upon it at once without having due con- 
sideration for your feelings. But listen to me, Margaret and I 
will explain. I have been intending to tell you of my love ever 
since you brought me back to life, I might say, for I feel that had 
it not been for you I would not have lived to have told you of my 
love. From the moment I first .saw you I felt an interest in you 
that I never felt in any other woman, and when I woke from my 
delirium and the first sight that greeted my eyes was your face so 
beautiful and tender, I could scarcely restrain myself from pour- 
ing out my heart to you then, but now that I am well again and 
know that to you, sweet creature, I owe my very existence, I 
cannot help telling you, darling, that I love you more than my own 
life, and oh, Margaret, do not deny me the privilege of caring for 
you always. My father has a palatial home which I share with 
him, and which shall one day be mine. I am to have an interest 
in his mammouth business. Wealth and position are mine, and 
now, dear Margaret, I beg you to add another favor to the many 
you have already conferred upon me by sharing it with me.” 

To describe the different expressions which followed each 
other in quick succession over her face would be a task far too 
arduous for a poor, miserable silver dollar that never had a 
chance to make love. 

She seemed surprised but not displeased, still she appeared to 


122 


be pained, and when he ceased speaking, she sat very still for a 
moment, then suddenly rising and confronting him, she said excit- 
edly, “Mr. Urban, forgive me but I cannot consent. I have allowed 
you to say all you have because, I cannot deny it, your love is 
reciprocated, but I cannot become your wife. Here Clarence in- 
terrupted her by saying excitedly, “Why not? I surely have no 
rival, have I?” “Mr. Urban,” continued Margaret, “I’m sorry to 
say that you have — ” “Oh God,” exclaimed Clarence with blaz- 
ing eyes, “this is too much.” “But, Mr. Urban, wait until I have 
finished, the rival is not another man, your rival is my profess- 
ion.” A long sigh of relief, a gleam of hope, followed this decla- 
ration, and Clarence exclaimed “Is that all.” Then let it go. 
Your work will be too hard for a young girl like you. While if 
you become my wife everything that you desire shall be yours 
for the asking. Oh, Margaret, please come with me and be 
mine ” Margaret never looked so beautiful as she did then. Her 
pure young face turned toward my master, her glorious eyes full 
of love and pity, her lips slightly parted, and her whole form 
trembling with emotion; but after a moment’s wavering, she drew 
herself up like a queen, and steadying her voice said, “No, it must 
not be so, I have spent all these years preparing myself to be a 
physician. My intention is not to grow rich thereby, but only to 
make a living. From poor girls and women I shall take nothing. 
All these years my joy has been in anticipating the time when 
with mind well stored with useful knowledge, I should return to 
America and be a physician. No, Mr. Urban, duty must be first 
and love second.” Here her voice which had been so firm and 
brave trembled, and Clarence seeing the momentary weakness 
renewed his suit, telling her that he would be miserable without 
her and striving to 'work upon her sympathies in many ways. 
“Oh Margaret,” he pleaded, “I cannot live without you. Why 
have you brought me back to life, only to kill me with a worse 
disease than any bodily ailment? Forget those lofty ambitions 
and be a human girl. I offer you my love and all that I can give 
you. Do you prefer instead a lonely life full of work and worry 
with no home, no loved ones about you? Oh, Margaret, be mine, 
and all that the world can ‘give shall be yours.” Here he ceased 


123 


speaking, and leaning his head against a broken column, his whole 
form was convulsed with a storm of sobs. , Poor Margaret, for a 
moment she hesitated, her own eyes fast filling with tears, then 
approaching my master she laid her hand on his arm and said, 
“Mr. Urban, don’t do that. Duty is hard enough, but to see you 
weep almost breaks my heart.” For a moment both were silent. 
Margaret stood with her pleading, tearful eyes fixed upon the 
trembling form of my master, loving but still loyal to her duty, 
and then slowly, sadly raising his head, my master led the way 
back to the rustic seat and both sat down again. “Margaret,” he 
said, “Forgive my weakness. My heart is breaking, but I was a 
selfish brute to try to win yours by such unmanly means, 
but once again I ask you, dearest, to change your mind. Darling* 
I love you so, so much.” The tone in which he uttered these 
words was so dangerously wheedlesome that poor Margaret 
trembled as he spoke them, but only for a moment. Then with 
a voice so full of love that its accents were almost husky, she 
said, “My heart pleads loudly for you Clarence, but the reproach- 
ful eyes of my suffering sisters across the sea have an eloquence 
which I cannot resist, and once for all I must answer NO. 

Clarence uttered a low 'groan and rising gave Margaret his 
arm. Slowly they returned to the carriage. The homeward 
drive was a silent one. So long had they tarried in the gardens, 
that the stars were shining when they again reached the hotel. 
In fact dinner had long been over, so both repaired to their 
rooms, and as Clarence left Margaret at her own door, she handed 
me to him saying. “I cannot accept the condition, so the dollar is 
yours.” He took me in silence and then asked, “Will you do me 
one favor, Margaret?” “Certainly,” she replied, “Well then, 
promise that you will correspond with me. Tomorrow morning 
I leave for Switzerland and this is the only boon I ask.” “Of 
course I will grant it,” she whispered, and then he clasped her 
passionately to his heart and kissed her. Then he left her and 
entered his own room. Robert had already retired, but as Clar- 
ence entered he raised his head from the pillow, and teasingly 
suggested that his drive must have been a pleasant one to have 
detained him so long. “Yes,” said Clarence, “very pleasant,” 


124 


but his voice contradicted his words, and the deep sigh which 
escaped his lips lodged in Robert’s heart, and driving out his ill- 
timed mirth, left only pity there. Robert asked no further ques- 
tions, knowing Clarence would keep nothing from him, and in a 
few moments Clarence threw himself down by his friend and 
poured his sorrowful story into his ear. “Rob,” said he, “I know 
it’s dreadful, but I wish with all my scul that I had died rather 
than to have come back to life and health only to carry a broken 
heart to my grave. Ah, Rob, you used to have many conquests 
at school, and I laughed at you. I did not care for women, but 
now that I have given my heart’s first and only love to the fairest 
and best of womm, it is hard indeed to know that my love is re- 
turned, but that I may not call her wife.” “Poor fellow,” said 
Rob, “I pity you sincerely, but know full well that no balm blit 
time can heal a wound like yours. But be sensible Clarence, and 
do not let this affection cloud your whole life. Dr. Howe is brave 
beyond expression to let her duty keep her from your side, but 
pardon me, Clarence, when I say that I admire her for it.” 
“What,” cried Clarence, “do you pity me no more than that?” 
“Clarence I pity you with all my soul and wish for your sake that 
Dr. Howe was not so nobly-self-sacrificing, but I cannot help ad- 
miring the courage of so fair a creature. But don’t give up hope, 
Clarence, she mav change her mind.” “NEVER,” said Clarence, 
and a sigh long and pitiful escaped his lips. Then silence reigned 
supreme. But just as Robert was going to sleep, Clarence 
amazed him by saying “We start for Switzerland tomorrow.” 
" tomorrow exclaimed Robert, in such an astonished tone that 
Clarence felt ashamed of his abruptness in a moment. “Yes 
Rob, I cannot stay in Vienna another day. I cannot live under 
the same roof with Margaret after the scene of'this afternoon. I 
am sorry to part you from your mother so suddenly, but I hope 
Rob, that you will sympathize with me in my dreadful disap- 
pointment, and that you will humor me in my resolve to leave 
immediately. Were I as brave as that little woman down stairs, 
I would trust myself here, but I am not and I would make a fool 
of myself generally if I staid here any longer.” As he ceased 
speaking, another sigh more pitiful than the first left his lips, 


*25 

and I knew that there were tears in Robert’s eyes when he spoke, 
for his voice was thick with emotion. “Clarence, after your kind- 
ness to me for all these years, I could refuse you nothing you 
could ask. Mother and I have been together all winter, and both 
of us are glad to do anything for you. Poor fellow, I wish I 
could arrange this affair for you, but as I can’t, I’ll do the only 
thing I can and follow wherever you ask.’’ “Thank you, Rob,’’ 
my master murmured, “You always were my brave boy, and I 
assure you that I will remember you for this.’’ 

Within a few moments all was again silent, and I supposed 
both of the friends slept, but long after Robert’s heavy breathing 
proclaimed his departure for dreamland, I heard sigh after sigh 
escape from the lips of my master, and convulsive sobs caused 
his whole frame to tremble. How I pitied him. I, who knew 
Margaret’s virtues even better than himself, could appreciate his 
loss better than Robert could, and I would have given worlds to 
have been able to console him, but alas, alas, I could do nothing! 

Finally sleep, that silent comforter, laid her soft hand upon 
his feverish eyelids, sang a soothing lullaby in his ear, and 
smoothed his burning cheek tenderly, and Clarence slept. In- 
coherent sentences fell from his lips occasionally, and once I un- 
derstood him plainly to utter these words, “Oh, Margaret, cruel, 
cruel Margaret.” 

The next morning found Robert astir very early, for he 
wanted to see his mother as soon as possible, and break the news 
of their departure to her. Clarence, too, rose early and began 
packing his trunk the moment he was dressed. He did not go 
down to breakfast. He could not bear to see Margaret again. 

It took some hours for the boys to get into traveling trim 
but they were finally transformed from gentlemen of leisure 
to hard working tourists. I say hard working, for if tourists 
do not work hard I should like to know who does. 

As soon as Robert could see his mother, he told her of their 
departure that very day, and as he afterwards told Clarence, “Of 
course she was surprised and disappointed, but she said it was 
the very best thing for both you and Margaret, and began at 
once to help me with my packing. There s no foolishness about 
my mother.” 


126 


Clarence did not trust himself in Margaret’s presence again, 
but just as he was shaking hands with Mrs. Howard and bidding 
her goodby, he slipped a little note into her hand and whispered 
“for Dr. Howe, if you please.” 

His voice was almost inaudible on account of the incoming- 
train, and when the express pulled out of Vienna, Clarence and 
Robert were among the passengers, bound for Insbruck. 

As I lay alone in one of the leaves of Clarence’s purse, I 
could not help comparing the present feelings of my master and 
Rob with those that filled their bosoms, when they entered 
Vienna almost a year before. 

Robert’s face was then radiant with joy and anticipation. It 
was now grave and sad because he had just left his mother. 
Clarence then had been happy because Robert had been glad, and 
because not the panthom of a care was on his heart. Ah, Cupid, 
thy darts are sweet when they lodge in sympathetic bosoms, but 
woe be to the man or maid whose love is all in vain. 

The paleness caused by his late illness would have made 
Clarence a pitiable spectacle, but the unutterable sadness which 
clouded his brow made him the. picture of despair. As the towers 
and spires of Vienna faded from his sight, his head sank upon 
his breast and he fell into a brown study. 

Rob too was silent. He knew the felicity of being alone 
with grief, and would not by word or act deprive his friend of this 
poor boon. 

By and by the train stopped at Insbruck and the boys 
alighted. 


CHAPTER XI. 

SWITZERLAND. 


Although deeply oppressed by melancholy, our tourists by 
the time they reached Insbruck, were aware of a certain un- 
pleasant feeling, viz., hunger. It seemed almost impossible to get 
anything to eat, and after leaving Insbruck they found no im- 
provement. The boys were actually suffering from hunger, and 
neither wheedling, begging, nor scolding could produce the desired 
effect. 

But, by and by, after a long and tedious journey by diligence 
and train, we entered the beautiful little watering place called St. 
Moritz, and then the boys gratified their appetites to the fullest 
extent. 

It was in this healthful retreat that my master spent the fol- 
lowing months, and where I had a great many pleasant and un- 
pleasant experiences. 

Before following up my master’s story, I must tell you that 
after crossing the borders of Switzerland, my pocket companions 
were changed again and my “Riberty” soon found a congenial 
companion in the “French Republic,” whose features appeared 
upon the coins which now greeted me on either hand. True, 
they were very Frenchy, but we managed to understand one 
another after a while, which made things on the interior of Ur- 
ban’s purse much more pleasant than they had been during the 
time I was pestered by English royalty or driven almost to dis- 
traction by the unintelligible chatter of those Germans. I pre- 
sume the reason for this was that the Swiss coins bore that cer- 
tain pass word to good fellowship, Ribertas. But whatever it was 
I was glad that we went to Switzerland. 

A great many invalids were at St. Moritz when we were 
there, for the air is so exhilerating, the warm springs so invigora- 


128 


ting, and above all the place is so far removed from the busy 
marts of life that it would really be remarkable if any one did not 
recover health and spirits there. 

Clarence and Robert secured delightful apartments, and to 
my untutored mind there seemed to be nothing lacking to com- 
plete my master’s happiness. But, alas, again my judgment was 
at fault, for he seemed dissatisfied. He looked out at the snow- 
capped mountains and sighed wearily. He went on excursions 
far into their fastnesses, climbed their precipitous sides, gazed 
from their summits at the world below, saw the sun set in his 
glory and rise in his power, and often exclaimed “Oh, how beauti- 
ful, but I wish — ” and there he always stopped. A stranger who 
heard him might have thought that that ever-present wish was 
for health, for the mountain breezes, the wholesome food, and the 
delightful exercise did not bring back the ruddy glow to his 
cheek. The long climbs up the mountain side did not impart vigor 
to his limbs, and the radiant sunsets did not throw into his eyes 
their wonted sparkle. But I, his pocket piece, knew “full well the 
story of his thralldom.” I knew the rest of that unfinished sen- 
tence. I knew whence those sighs were wafted. I knew, alas, 
too well the subject of his musings. I have said that my master 
went on excursions among the mountains. He did sometimes, 
but much more frequently he remained at home while Robert, 
perfectly aware of the mournful pleasure to be obtained by think- 
ing over one’s sorrows alone, left him to his own devices and fol- 
lowed the light hearted revellers into the cloudy distance. These 
solitary days often occurred immediately after the receipt of a let- 
ter from Vienna. As I have told you, Margaret promised that 
she would correspond with my master, and it is needless to say 
that he had taken her at her word. 

After Robert had gone Clarence would take with him his 
writing materials and the letter he had just received and steal 
away into a little mountain ravine where all was as still and soli- 
tary as could be, and then he would pore over those letters by the 
hour. As he had a habit of reading them softly to himself, I 
often, in fact almost always, knew their contents, and for the life 
of me I could not see what Clarence saw so beautiful in the com- 


monplace remarks with which Margaret filled her letters. Neither 
could I understand why those letters were so commonplace, for I 
knew full well that Margaret was capable of writing eloquent 
epistles that would have compared favorably with the work of 
many of our standard writers. Why then did she write to this 
man whom she confessed she loved, in such a manner? Alas, 
alas, I began to feel that my knowledge of human nature was 
wofully superficial. I had seen many girls in love during my 
travels, but I never saw one like Margaret. True it is that she* 
had said she could never marry my master, but she had promised 
to be “his friend,’’ and why should she write to him as a mere 
acquaintance. 

Still Clarence did not think her letters were ordinary. He 
seemed to think them jewels rare and radiant, and never failed to 
read them dozens of times. He answered them as soon as they 
came, though it was frequently long weeks before a reply came 
to his. 

One evening when Robert returned from one of the ex- 
cursions mentioned he found Clarence in a high state of excite- 
ment, and no sooner had they returned to their roo m than Clar- 
ence made this extraordinary declaration. 

“Say Rob, I’m going to try it again.’’ 

“Why Clarence,’’ responded Rob, “what in the world are you 
talking about? You go on such a rate of late that I am actually 
worried about you.” 

“Rob,” said Clarence, “have you forgotten the cause of my 
trouble? Do you not remember that June evening when I 
opened my heart to you and allowed you to read what was graven 
there, and can you not imagine what I mean when I say that I 
am going to try it again?” 

Rob was respectful now and said, “yes, I suppose you are 
going to ask Miss Howe to change her mind.” 

“Right,” I mean to ask Margaret once more the question to 
which had she answered yes, I would now be the happiest of 
mortals. This terrible strain upon my nerves is going to kill me. 
I can’t stand it much longer. Why, I can’t think of anything but 
that girl, and just think she loves me, but that high sense of 


honor is going to be the death of one-man though it may save a 
few women.” 

“Now Urban, old fellow, don’t talk like that. I know it’s 
awful, and I have watched you anxiously ever since we came 
here to see whether the change would do you any good. I 
thought perhaps down here among these mountains you would 
forget — ” 

“Forget! great heavens Rob, I could no more forget it than 
I could fly! No, you do not understand love, Rob Howard, or 
you couldn’t say that.” 

Rob confessed that he didn’t know much about it, though a 
tell-tale blush might have belied the words had Clarence been 
watching. 

“Well Clarence,” continued he, “you say you are going to 
ask her again. Didn’t she say it was no once for all? What’s the 
use of going all over it again?” But Clarence was persistent. He 
could not give up and consequently that night he penned the fol- 
lowing letter: 

(He read it aloud to Robert, so I happen to know the con- 
tents.) 

St. Moritz, Switzerland, July 30, 1889. 

My Dear Margaret: — 

Your letter came this morning, and while you waited a long 
time before answering mine, I will reply to yours at once. I wish 
I could pursuade you to write more frequently to me. If you 
knew the pleasure I gain by reading your dainty little missives, I 
am sure you would neglect your ‘Anatomy’ lesson for at lea.st ten 
minutes and devote them to my unworthy self. 

You speak of your hospital work being finished in May, 
which means that in less than a year you will be a full fledged M. 
D., and will return to America and begin your work. Now, 
Margaret, I hope you will forgive me, but the thought of your 
going back to America has brought vividly before me my great 
misfortune, that I could not gain your consent to our union, and 
again though you have forbidden it, I cannot refrain from asking 
you to give up your plans. Margaret, I am dying for love of 
you. I cannot gain strength or health while I know that you are 


up there in Vienna, toiling night after night upon those prosy 
books, thinking a great deal more of a skeleton than you do of 
your devoted lover. Ah, little woman, it is cruel to treat me so. 
Can you really love me and still be willing to see me pine away 
because of those poor women in whom you have noother interest 
than the love you bear for all human-kind? Is that true love, 
Margaret? 

But how far I have strayed from the paths of rectitude. 
How I have disobeyed you in trying to pursuade you to forsake 
your ‘duty’ for a wretch like myself, but I hope that in seeking 
the greater treasure I have not lost the less. Forgive me, 
Margaret, my heart is breaking, and these words of mine are 
born of the persistence of a drowning man. I catch at every 
straw which floats upon the ocean of my life with the vain hope 
that I may be saved from a life which is worse than death. With- 
out you, Margaret, all my wealth will be mockery, and grief grim 
and ghostly shall be the tyrant of my heart. 

If I dared, I would repeat that question which I asked you 
out there in the beautiful Schonbrunn Gardens — I will ask you. 
I will make a bold dash for the enemy and take my citadel by 
storm. *Ah, only wave the white flag of truce, Margaret, and let 
me come back to Vienna and to life. 

Robert sends love to his mother and regards to you. I re- 
verse the message. Love to you. Regards to Mrs. Howard. 

Your devoted, 

Clarence. 

Robert listened to the letter attentively; then said, “send it 
Clarence if you think best. I fear it will not be successful, but I 
hope so.” 

The letter was sealed and posted. The days dragged heavily. 
Night came, but Clarence did not sleep. Morning dawned and 
found him pale and haggard, I could not understand it. I had 
felt badly when I was separated from Margaret Howe, but how 
could a man like my master wjio I had often heard say that he 
would never fall in love, waste his whole time pining for one 
little woman. It was really a problem that was past solving. 


Weeks passed by. Weeks of agony for Clarence. He tried 
to be brave and to forget. He attended all the little parties given 
at the hotel. He danced with the pretty girls; he chatted with 
their mammas, talked business with their papas and did his best 
to be his own gay, happy self, but vain delusion! His heait was 
in Vienna. In his smile lurked the shadow of a sigh; in his 
laugh could be noticed a melancholy ring, and altogether 
he was about as unhappy as a man could well be. One morning 
he received a letter. It was postmarked Vienna. He fairly 
snatched it from the man’s hand and ran up to his room. His 
hands trembled so he could not open it, and tossing it over to 
Rob, he begged him to open it and read it to him. This was the 
letter: 

Vienna, August 23, 1889. 

Clarence G. Urban, Esq., St. Moritz, Switzerland. 

Dear Mr. Urban: — 

Do not tempt me. I cannot grant your request. You know 
why I refused to accept your love. It was because for years I 
have been devoting all my time to medicine. I have now almost 
completed my training, and life is before me. To stop at this 
time, to give up all my fond ambitions, to leave undone the work 
that I feel sure God has given me to do would be a sin too great 
for me to dare commit. I grieved over that part of your letter in 
which you tell me that your health is not improving. Dear Mr. 
Urban, do not think of me any more. I am not worthy of such 
affection. I would, though, gladly give you my heart and hand, 
if it were possible. But it would be a selfish love, indeed, that 
would pursuade me to forsake my profession and leave those 
poor, suffering sisters to wear out their lives in wretchedness 
without lending them the hand that I have so long been making- 
skillful for their sakes. And they are so poor; I want to give 
them not only health but money. I will not charge them any- 
thing, but I have rich friends who have promised their patron- 
age, and from the money I earn from services rendered them I 
expect to live and to help other girls to a higher plan of living. 
These are my plans. My conscience tells me sternly that I must 
not abandon them. Could I be happy even with you if I 


*33 

thought that by marrying you I was allowing some poor child or 
woman to suffer pain that I might alleviate? No, Mr. Urban, no. 
\ ou will forget me by and by. I beg that you do, and then 
mafry some woman rich in mind and heart, your equal socially as 
well as mentally, and poor Dr. Howe and her love will appear 
then so small that you will wonder how you ever thought of it for 
a moment. Believe me, Clarence, it is best that we see no more 
of each other. Dove and duty have duelled long and desperately 
in my heart, but duty has conquered. 

Farewell, my love, for one last time I call you that. I ask 
but one favor and that is that you forget me. 

Margaret. 

As Robert read the last words Clarence’s head dropped on 
the table before him, and sob after sob burst from his lips. His 
whole form was convulsed with grief. (Ah, young man, who no 
doubt are reading 'these words with scornful lip, and dubbing 
Clarence “fool,’’ wait until your own heart is broken and your 
physical man almost a wreck because of some beautiful girl, and 
then I think you will only pity my poor master ) 

But while Clarence wept, Robert was thinking, and all of a 
sudden he jumped up and went and laid his hand on Clarence’s 
herd and said, “Clarence, I believe you can win her yet.’’ “What,” 
cried Clarence, “after that? Rob, I really thought you knew her 
better than that.’’ “It does look bad,” said Robert, “but listen 
while I repeat one sentence in her letter, which may mean a 
great deal more than you think.” ‘It would be a selfish love in- 
deed that would pursuade me to forsake my profession.’ “See 
she says ‘forsake her profession.’ There’s the rub. Why not let 
her practice. You have abundant means, and while you were at 
your business, she could doctor poor people to her heart’s con- 
tent, and not have to charge any one a cent — ” 

“Rob, you’re an angel. By Jove, what a fool I’ve been,” said 
my master, “I’ll write her at once. It’s the very thing. Rob, 
you always were my guiding star, my good angel, my — ” 
“There, there,” expostulated Rob, “don’t go to making love to 
me, but sit down and write to her at once.” Without a moment’s 
delay (which was one of my master’s characteristics) he sat down 
and wrote the following letter: 


134 


St. Moritz, Switzerland, September 12, 1889. 

My Dear Margaret:— 

Your letter came a few moments ago, and I have read it 
from beginning to end. You say you would gladly give me your 
heart and hand if it were possible. You say that your profession 
is all that stands in the way of our union. Heretofore, I have 
thought of our marriage as being the end of your profession, now 
I think of it as the very best thing to help you pursue it. Marry 
me, Margaret, and ah my wealth shall be yours. You can use it 
as you like. You can practice your profession if you like; you 
can build institutions for the deaf, the blind, the lame — in fact do 
anything in the world you desire, if you will change your name 
from Howe to Urban. And now, my dear Margaret, do not re- 
fuse me again. I shall love you just as much as a doctor, as I 
would if you were plain Mrs. Urban. 

Please write me at once. In the meantime I shall “live in 
hope though I die in despair.’’ 

Sincerely your lover, 

Clarence G. Urban. 

After this letter was mailed, Robert had all he could do to 
keep Clarence within bounds. He was so nervous that Rob 
feared a return of the fever and sincerely hoped that Margaret 
would not wait her usual time before answering. His wish was 
gratified. The return mail brought him a dainty little epistle 
from Margaret. He read it in silence, and then startled Rob by 
exclaiming, “It worked, Rob, she’s mine.” That was all he said, 
but Rob understood and shook hands and offered congratulations 
immediately. Now while that was all Rob heard of that letter, I 
had the peculiar satisfaction of reading it, because soon after its 
receipt when he took up his pen to reply, he took me out of his 
pocket and caressed the initials upon my face, and then laid me 
down beside that very letter while he wrote to her, and as I know 
you desire to hear its contents, I will gratify your curiosity. 

Vienna, Austria, September 28, 1889. 

Dear Clarence: — 

Your letter is before me, and my conscience now permits me 
to answer yes. I am happy to accept your offer, if you think you 


*35 ' 


will not regret it. I can never thank you enough for making it 
possible for me to do so much good, and my heart seems a very 
small thing to give in exchange for such a large, noble one as 
yours. Mrs. Howard is waiting for me to go down town, so I 
will close now with much love. 

I am yours lovingly, 

Margaret. 

His answer was — 

My Most Adorable Margaret: — 

Words fail me when I would express my delight, for before 
me lies your last letter in which you give me the privilege to care 
for you always. My dearest girl, I assure you that the task will 
be heavenly. I cannot express it otherwise. Why should I? 
With an angel in his home, a fellow can’t help thinking about 
heaven. 

Rob sends regards and “wishes you much happiness.” He 
needn’t wish me that. He knows that I am in perfect transports 
of joy and he is worried to death for fear I will impress the 
people here at the hotel with the idea that I am insane. I am 
rather flighty. How could I be otherwise when my heart, soul 
and mind are all three in Vienna? It’s a delightful madness 
though, and I much prefer it to sanity. 

When did you say that your work would be completed? I 
suppose I shall have to wait until then, before you will be mine. 
I think that the appellation of Margaret Howe, My Dear, would be 
much more suitable than Margaret Howe, Medicine Doctor, but 
of course you are the former to me. and that’s all I can ask. 

Oh, my darling, how can I ever tell you the joy I feel this 
minute, when my eyes tell me that the letter lying before me is 
really in your own handwriting, and that you have actually 
promised to be mine. Mine! Just think of that. But I must 
not keep you longer now. With love unbounded, I am 

Your devoted 

Clarence. 

After the receipt of that last letter from Margaret, Clarence 
was another man. He entered into everything with unwonted 
spirit. He at last enjoyed fully the transcendant beauty of the 


Alps. He could appreciate the grandeur of nature’s painting, and 
could commune with her now in her rugged beauty as he had 
done elsewhere when she decked herself in flowers. 

Yes, my master was happy. After a few weeks I caught a 
glimpse of him which convinced me that Dr. Howe possessed 
more power than the majority of that fraternity, for with a few 
written words she had done more for my master than all the skill- 
ful physicians of St. Moritz could accomplish by their medicines 
and treatment. “Ah,” thought I, “it is indeed wonderful the 
power that it is possible for a woman’s hand to wield.” 

My master, who had been such a scoffer at the poet’s art, now 
often waxed poetical and one morning surprised Robert beyond 
expression by reading him the following stanzas: 

“Should you ask me where is sweetness, 

Should you ask me where is joy, 

.Should you ask me where is beauty 
Uneffected by alloy. 

I should point you to Vienna 

To a certain maiden there, * 

Who has eyes from heaven given, 

Who has waving chestnut hair. 

She it is to whom I’d point you 

Should you ask those questions three, 

She is sweetness, joy and beauty, 

Rut the trio are for me. 

I alone may sip the nectar 

From the red lips of my flower, 

1 alone know joy beside her 

Dream about her hour by hour. 

So be careful how you worship 
At my dear Vienna shrine, 

For the goddess fair and faultless 
Has now promised to be mine. 

Ye Gods, what perfect rapture 
Brings that little word to me, 

Mine ? I scarcely can believe it, 

Dearest, can it really be, 

That my love’s at last rewarded 
With so great, so sweet a prize? 

Yes I feel ’tis true my darling, 

I can read it in your eyes. 


True it is thou’rt in Vienna, 

I, a guest among the Swiss, 

But my soul is ever near thee, 

Finding there a blessed bliss. 

Soon I’ll see you, oh how glorious; 

• Soon I’ll clasp you to my heart, 

Then, tho’ all the world oppose it, 

From you I shall never part. 

Would you know this peerless maiden, 

True I have not named her yet, 

But I’ll tell you ere I leave you 
’Tis my matchless Margaret.” 

As he ceased reading, Rob grasped his hand and shook it 
heartily exclaiming, “Good for you Urban, who’d have thought 
that } r ou would blossom into a poet after all the dreadful teasings 
I’ve received at your hands. Truly love is a magician.” Clarence 
accepted Rob’s congratulations modestly, and blushed furiously 
when Rob reminded him of those “dreadful teasings.” 

“Well Rob, I do believe that love has completely trans- 
formed me. Why, everything seems different to me now. The 
world which a few weeks since was a barren desert, now blossoms 
as a rose. The flowers which formerly seemed to droop their 
dainty heads in sympathy when I passed, now hold them erect and 
waft a fragrant greeting. The birds whose songs I scarcely heard, 
now seem to sing of love. The whole world has become a fairy- 
land and Margaret is queen.” 

So spoke my master who a year ago was a woman hater of 
the rankest kind. I puzzled my shallow metal brain over the 
problem, “what is this thing called love?” But I failed to solve 
it. About this time Clarence wrote the following letter to his 
parents: 

(Of course he read it to Robert, so I heard it all.) 

St. Moritz, Switzerland, October io, 1889. 
My Dear Father and Mother: — 

It would be impossible to tell you how delighted I was to re- 
ceive your letter for it seemed to come like a breeze from home 
away down here among the Alps. 

Since I last wrote you my health has been rapidly improv- 
ing. I have gained several pounds, my cheeks are beginning to 


grow red again and I can walk much farther than I could without 
fatigue. But do not attribute this change to the springs of St. 
Moritz, neither credit it to the mountain air, but believe rather as 
/ do, that the wonderful change has been affected by the little 
lady physician of whom I wrote you from Vienna, and now you 
will doubtless imagine that the wonder has been wrought by a 
powder or a pill, but let me disabuse your minds of such a 
thought. The remedy she sent me was nothing more or less than 
one gracious little yes. 

Can you fathom the mystery? Or must I proceed to tell you 
that she will not bear the name of Howe much longer, and ask 
you to bestow your blessing upon your prospective daughter-in 
law? No, I think you understand the situation perfectly without 
any explanation, and I await your reply. Margaret has such a 
high sense of duty that I could not pursuade her to give up her 
profession, and she will consequently be an M. D. Not for the 
pecuniary benefits arising therefrom, but because of a purely 
philanthropic purpose. She desires to doctor pcor women and 
children who are too poor to employ medical aid. She will, in 
short, be a true Lady Bountiful, and to show you that she will al- 
so be Lady Beautiful I enclose you her photograph. 

Direct your next letter here for we may not start for Italy 
before the time it arrives. I shall not go to Vienna until spring, 
though I would gladly go there now, but my little charmer will 
not permit it until she shall have finished her training in the hos- 
pital. Heavens, to think that she spends more time over dead 
men’s bones than on me ! But as long as they are dead it’s not so 
bad, but let a live man cross my path and he’ll find a lion in his 
way. 

Adieu now, dear parents, I remain with love, 

Your Son, Clarence. 

After this letter was sent Clarence and Robert spent many 
pleasant days at St. Moritz and went on several excursions among 
the glaciers. 

But the time came for us to leave Switzerland, and one de- 
lightful morning in early October, we bade farewell to St. Moritz 
and travelled to Chiavenna by diligence. 


ITALY. 

CHAPTER XII. 

I saw nothing of the outside world during the journey, ex- 
cept when on the border of Switzerland I made some new mone- 
tary acquaintances known a lire. The boys were enthusiastic 
over the wild, picturesque beauty of the country through which 
they passed. 

I had only a few peeps of Chiavenna, but learned that it is 
only a skeleton of its former self, and there is very little either of 
romance or commerce to be found in the present town of 
Chiavenna. 

Our mode of travel changed after leaving there and we 
reached Colico by train. The town of Colico is situated on Lake 
Como, and here ^ we took a boat for one of the most delightful 
aquatic trips that I made while in Clarence’s possession. 

A tour of the Italian Lakes followed which lasted for two 
months. During this time the letters from Vienna followed my 
master like little white birds, always bringing a message of good 
will. Robert, too, was the recipient of his usual quota of news 
from that city, and neither youth had an opportunity to forget 
that they were making a circuitous, but nevertheless certain, jour- 
ney to Austria. 

After the evening upon which Clarence discovered that I 
bore Margaret’s initials I became much more important than I 
had been formerly, and Clarence bestowed many a tender little 
pat upon my face which I understood and appreciated though he 
little dreamed it. 

After our lake tour was finished, we pushed on to Milan, 
where we spent about two weeks, and the young men saw all the 
places of interest, foremost of which was the Cathedral. The pict- 
ure galleries were also attractive, for, as you will remember, Clar- 
ence was a connoisseur of fine art. 


140 


In the church of S. Marie della Grazie Robert went into 
raptures before the celebrated picture of the “Last Supper.” I 
did not see the picture, but I did see something interesting, and 
th it was the face of a decrepit old woman who stood at the door 
of the church and asked my master for money. Of course Clar- 
ence did not refuse her. I never knew my master to refuse any 
one alms, and as this woman had the appearance of feeble 
health, he opened his heart and purse at the same time. As I 
peeped at the poor woman, my memory carried me back to the 
time when / was given to a poor creature, and I remembered the 
happy smile that illumed her features as she thanked the doner, 
and then another thought came to me. It was this, that other 
woman was Margaret’s mother. Just at this junction Clarence 
closed his purse and my thoughts turned into other channels. 

My next knowledge of the outside world was to the effect 
that we were in Verona, and I recollect that we spent two days 
in that place. 

The “Tomb of Juliet” proved the most attractive place in 
Verona, for the boys doted on Shakespeare, and liked to believe 
the story the guide told them which was that the veritable Juliet 
of whom Shakespeare wrote had once been buried there, but that 
the body had been removed. They also saw the house where a 
family of Capulets lived, which their imaginations easily pictured 
as the home of Juliet, and Rob clapped his hands in delight 
when he beheld a balcony projecting from an upper window. 
Almost unconsciously he began to repeat : 

“He jests at scars that never felt a wound, 

But soft, what light throught yonder window breaks? 

It is the east and Juliet is the sun !” 

Rob would have ceased here, but Clarence insisted that he 
proceed, and for fully half an hour he repeated line after line of 
the world famous drama. 

It was late at night when we returned to the hotel, and it 
was not long before my master was fast asleep. 

Next morning while standing by his open trunk, he took out 
his purse to look for some tickets and accidently dropped it. Of 
course the coins rolled all over the floor. I fell into the trunk, 


H* 


and in his search for the foreign money he forgot his silver dol- 
lar. 

I now anticipated trouble, and it came, for by and by he 
closed the trunk, and I was left unheeded. 

Many times during that winter I heard the lid of that tiunk 
raised, but I was invariably overlooked. I had hoped to get 
occasional glances at the Italian cities through which I knew we 
were passing, but now I saw nothing and heard very little. Only 
occasionally did I overhear a conversation between my master 
and Robert when they were in their .room, and 1 happened to have 
been brought up there too. 

I know that we were in Rome for some weeks, but not one 
peep at the Eternal City did I get. Neither did I have the pleas- 
ure of making any monetary acquaintances among the coins of 
southern Italy, and if it had not been for a solitary little Swiss 
coin which fell into the trunk at the same time that I did, I would 
have been utterly alone. 

My confinement in this trunk lasted almost eight months, 
when one blessed May day in 1890 my master opened the tiunk, 
and in rummaging among the “depths” found myself and the 
Swiss coin in a high state of excitement. He was evidently much 
pleased, too, for he exclaimed “Why, Rob Howard, here’s my 
dollar which I thought was lost, and here are Margaret’s initials!” 
The tone in which he uttered those words convinced me that his 
affection for Margaret had not decreased. 

Then the two friends fell to talking, and I perceived that 
after the little flush of excitement (occasioned by my discovery) 
had died away that Urban’s voice was full of sadness like that 
which I used to notice when he was a love-lorn youth in Switzer- 
land. The following remarks gave me the key to the mystery. 

“Rob, I can’t tell her. What will she think? I can’t under- 
stand how father can be so unsympathetic. Eisten to his letter. 

Clarence : — 

Your letter came duly to hand, but I must repeat what I said 
before that if you marry this poor doctress you shall not have 
one penny of iny money. Do you think that I would stand idly 


by and see this palace which I have reared, ruled over by an in- 
ferior female. (“Inferior female!” roared my master, “if he were 
here I’d challenge him even though he is my father”) such as I 
am convinced this woman must be. These professional women 
are all cranks; otherwise why should they deign to learn anything 
so deep as medicine? Bah! the very thought disgusts me. I am 
surprised that you are so obstinate, Clarence. I really cannot 
understand it. You speak of love. Really I did not think you 
so effeminate. When I was your age it was fashionable to marry 
for love. Now the custom has been wisely (I think) changed and 
marriages are mere business transactions. Now, my son, you 
want to marry this woman and raise her to your level. You 
needn’t think you can do it. She’ll always be lowbred, and all 
the wealth in the Universe will not make her a lady in my eyes 
or in those of the world. 

Your mother is foolish enough to think the girl might be- 
come polished and refined in time, but then your mother being a 
woman, can’t understand the situation. I’ll be patient with you, 
and wait until I receive your next letter before I take the final 
step, but if you are still persistant in marrying the girl, you are 
no longer my heir and must take care of her the best you can. 

I fancy a cool million or two is not a small consideration, 
when compared with the coarse beauty of your beloved doctress. 
Eh,. Clarence? 

I am your father, 

Gkorgk Urban. 

Just hear that! Rob could you brook such insults ! Hah, 
Margaret’s beauty coarse ! Margaret low bred ! By all the powers 
I’ll make him rue the words; and I will marry her, let come what 
may! 

But I’ve promised her wealth. She may not marry a poor 
man. Oh fate, thou art cruel. But I must have Margaret. I 
shall soon see her and we’ll talk it over.” 

I now learned that our destination was Venice, and that we 
were enroute for that city. Therefore my next peep at the out- 
side world gave me a view of Venice, as Clarence paid a gondo- 
lier for taking us to the hotel. 


When we reached the hotel, two ladies came down the hall 
way to meet us. I recognized their voices immediately as these 
of Mrs. Howard and Margaret. You can imagine my surprise, 
for I had been in the trunk when Clarence received word that 
they would meet them at Venice. 

It is needless to say that my master monopolized Margaret 
at once, for this was the first time they had met since they had 
become engaged. 

The day was spent in conversation for the most part general, 
but when evening came and night drew on a-pace, a gondola 
glided noiselessly up to the door of the hotel, and two persons 
entered it. They were Margaret and my master. 

The night was sweet and still. The dear old stars twinkled 
just as saucily as they did when Romeo courted his Juliet and 
compared her eyes to them; the moon peeped shyly out from be- 
hind a cloud, and the restless bosom of the Grand Canal was all 
ablaze with glory. 

For some time the occupants of the gondola were silent, save 
for the occasional endearing expressions which Clarence show- 
ered upon Margaret. Then his voice grew tremulous, and I 
knew that he was about to tell her of the fatal contents of his 
father’s letter. 

“Margaret,” he said ‘'do you think you could love me under 
any conditions, under any circumstances?” He paused for a re- 
ply and received it in the fervent glance of her eyes as much as 
in the earnest tones of her voice, as she answered “Oh yes, but 
why do you ask, have I done anything to make you doubt my 
sincerity?” “No, no, Margaret, it’s not you — it’s father.” 

“Why Clarence, what do you mean?” 

“Well, Margaret, I suppose I might as well tell you, father 
opposes our union. He does not know you, and thinks that be- 
cause you are a physician that you are necessarily a crank, and 
he declares if I marry you that he will disinherit me. Now Mar- 
garet you will understand that this will make it impossible for me 
to keep my word as to giving you the immense wealth that I 
promised; I have a little property in my own name and I 
have a strong right arm, but, of course, I can’t expect you to be 


*44 


mine now. It would be asking too much, but — Oh Margaret, how 
can I live without you?” And here he clasped his face in his 
hands and trembled with grief and anger. 

It was now Margaret’s chance to show the true nobility of 
her womanhood, and timidly removing his hands from his face 
she put both shapely arms about his neck and whispered, “Dar- 
ling I am sorry for your sake that I have brought you misfor- 
tune, but I am glad, too, for now I can show you that I love you 
for yourself alone, and I will work too, and my wealthy friends 
will help me, and I’ll be so happy, for I’ll be helping you too.” 

What a scene! Can you imagine my master’s feelings with 
that beautiful creature clinging to him, saying words which were 
like honey in his ears? Oh my master (thought I) You have cause 
to be happy tor Margaret is w^orth more than your father’s mil- 
lions. She will be true to you when other friends fail you, and 
in future years will bring joy and comfort to your heart. 

Clarence was too deeply affected to say a word, but thanked 
her more eloquently than words could have done by clasping 
both arms about her and drawing her to his heart. It must have 
been a romantic scene— the star gemmed sky, the rippling water 
ruffled here and there by gondolas, the lights along the shore re- 
flected in the water, and last of all the beautiful girl clasped in the 
arms of her lover. 

And the two young people were not blind to the beauty all 
about them, and all these lovely things were but the setting of 
the little stage upon which my master and Margaret were play- 
ing the .old drama of “hearts.” The sparkle in Margaret’s eyes 
was akin to that of the stars and they greeted each other like 
familiar friends, and the great joy in my master’s heart cast a 
halo of glory over all of his surroundings. 

***** * * * * * 

It was past midnight when Clarence called to the gondolier 
to return to the hotel, but Clarence did not sleep. He seemed to 
be in a waking dream, and when in the early morning hours 
sleep at last touched his pillow, he must have dreamed of Mar- 
garet, for he frequently muttered her name. 


As Margaret was taking this little vacation from the hos- 
pital, our little party concluded to take in the various sights of 
interest. 

Pursuant of this plan, they went first to view St. Mark’s church. 
I did not see this beautiful structure, but learned from the con- 
versation of the four visitors, that the church is built with several 
squatty towers surrounded by airy finials. There are five open- 
ings on the street, and the front of the church is elaborately dec- 
orated with many colored designs. The interior is gorgeous, and 
seemingly every means within the artists’, sculptors’ and archi- 
tects’ power were brought into use in its decoration. 

They stayed a long time in St. Mark’s, but departed at last; 
and stepping into a gondola, Clarence directed the gondolier to 
take them to the Doge’s Palace. They explored this palace 
with interest, but I obtained never a glance at it and only knew 
that the others were highly pleased with its style of architecture. 

All admired the Campanile, or Bell Tower, which occupies 
one corner of St. Mark’s square and rises to a height of 300 feet. 
Then I was carried^ across the Bridge of Sighs from palace to 
prison, and Margaret was so tired that she said she thought it 
ought rather to be called the “Bridge of Size” for every step 
seemed a mile. And those people were not only tired, but hun- 
gry. Just think of that ! Even in venerable Venice, with all its 
wonderful water-ways and famous buildings, these Americans 
grew hungry, and shutting their eyes to the beauties all about 
them, entered one of the cafes, which line St. Mark’s square, 
and ate for all the world as if they were in any ordinary eating 
house; and seemed to forget that they were actually in “Venice, 
the Bride of the Sea.” 

However, the lunch seemed to bring new enthusiasm 
and they soon started out to visit the Frari Church, which 
they had been told was one of the largest and most beautiful of 
all the Venitian churches, and upon entering it all agreed that 
they had been rightly informed. Rob told them that the Frari was 
built in 1258. In it they saw the splendid monuments of Titian, 
Canova, the Doge Gravonni Pesaro, and many of the tombs ol the 
great men of Venice. 


Ill the church are several of Titian’s most famous pictures 
before which our party lingered long. 

After leaving Frari they again procured a gondola and floated 
between noble palaces and stately churches and under many 
bridges, the most noted of which was the Rialto, which during our 
stay in Venice I had the pleasure of seeing. This is a massive 
stone structure spanning the Grand Canal and was built three 
hundred years ago. It is seventy feet broad and about one hun- 
dred feet long. In the center is a broad path-way lined with 
stores or booths built of stone, and on each side is a narrow foot- 
way between the stores and the railing of the bridge. 

By the time we passed under the Rialto Bridge, it was grow 7 - 
ing late, and the gondolier was instructed to return to the hotel. 

During that long day you must not imagine that my master 
was absorbed in sight-seeing to such an extent that he neglected 
to pay his wonted attention to Margaret. Far be it from me to give 
such an impression. For I verily believe that not a single oppor- 
tunity was lost of whispering sweet nothings into her ear or giv- 
ing a suggestive pressure to her hand; but that was by-play, and 
only one of my little silvern secrets. 

If I remember correctly our party visited the Academy S. 
Marie, Formosa Church, St. Georgian’s Church and the lace and 
glass factory befor leaving Venice. 

The watch-word was now Vienna. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

BACK TO VIENNA. 

Having arrived at Vienna, our party drove to the house 
which Clarence had left in such haste and sorrow almost a year 
before. 

After leaving the ladies, Clarence stepped into the room where 
he had been so ill, and on entering heaved a long sigh. “It brings 
such painful memories to me,” he murmured, but there was little 
time to waste before dinner. Both young men unpacked their trunks, 
and changed their attire in a much shorter time than was their 
habit. 

That night Clahence and Margaret sauntered out into the 
city, and chose the Ringstrasse for a walk. During the walk 
they arranged their plans for the wedding which was to take 
place in June. Clarence regretted continually that he could not 
take his bride upon the extended tour he had fondly planned 
while in Italy, because he would sadly say, “I’m a poor man 
now,” but dear, gracious, Margaret would assure’ him that she 
did not care so long as he was with her. 

The night was far .spent when they again entered the board- 
ing house, and how different was the good night from that which 
was given a year ago in the self-same place. 

vL* si/ vi* 4* vp vp •h vp vj/ vp 

/Js *T* *T* 'T* *T* T 

One delightful morning in June Clarence rose much earlier 
than was his custom and walked excitedly about the room, first 
opening one box, then another, looking out of the window, and 
into the mirror; glancing at his watch and at the door, as if 
anxiously awaiting the arrival of some one. At six o’clock he 
woke Rob by shaking him and saying, “say, Rob, I don’t believe 


that tailor is going to come at all. I’ve a notion to start out 
and get the suit myself.” Rob asked the time and went off 
into a gale of laughter when he heard it was only six. “Why 
Clarence, don’t lose your head on your wedding day. That man 
will not be here before eight anyway.” Clarence subsided, but 
seemed very ill at ease. Finally the breakfast bell rang, and 
Clarence and Rob answered the summons promptly. I soon 
heard Margaret calling “good morning” across the room, 
but I noticed that there was nothing of the nervous tone in her 
voice that intruded itself into mymaster’s. The little woman was 
the braver of the two, but that is neither here nor there. 

Soon after breakfast Clarence hastened back to his room, but 
found neither the tailor nor his suit. He was very nervous and 
paced the room in an agitated manner, but at last he heard the 
man’s tap at his door and in another moment he was happy, for 
his “conventional black” was in his possession. The wedding 
was to be at noon in the parlor of the boarding house. As Clar- 
ence arrayed himself for his wedding (with friendly “lifts” from 
Rob) I longed intensely to see him, but had little hope that I 
would be permitted to do so, but just before the time to go he 
opened his purse and took me out, polished my face with his 
silken kerchief, and said to himself, “It’ll be a good joke, and I’ll 
have some fun at my wedding or know the reason why.” You 
may be sure I was intensely interested in his remark for I hadn’t 
the slightest idea what was going to be done with me. When the 
time came for Clarence to go to Margaret’s room for her, Rob led 
the way and Clarence followed, holding me in his hand. I was in 
a perfect delirium of excitement. 

The minister was a stranger to me, but Margaret knew him 
well. There was a young lady looking very pretty in a pale blue 
gown, who took Robert’s arm and followed the minister down 
stairs. It was Ida Branch. Where she came from and how she 
happened to be there, I did not know, but she was most certainly 
there, and she and Robert led the way to the parlor. They stood 
on either side of the door as we came in. 

Then the minister came up before us and said a few words 
which I rightly conjectured were the wedding ceremony. 


149 


Finally he asked my master and Margaret to join “right 
hands,” and what was my intense surprise when my master, as he 
clasped Margaret’s little white gloved hand in his, slipped me into 
it. Margaret had not expected this, but (sagacious little woman 
that she was) she held me fast and understood what Clarence 
meant when, as soon as the ceremony was over and he had given 
her the first sweet kiss, he whispered, “Now dear you have taken 
us both.” I cannot tell you how delighted I was to be again in 
Margaret’s possession and to know that I had been “part of the 
ceremony.” 

After the wedding all of the party, which consisted of the 
guests at the boarding house and some of Margaret’s school 
mates, repaired to the dining room. As Margaret did not have a 
pocket in her wedding gown she slipped me into her glove. So 
you see I was more highly honored than anybody else, and I felt 
my keeping, I assure you. 

After dinner Clarence left Margaret for a short time, and she 
changed her beautiful glistening white satin gown for a dark blue 
traveling dress, and -then taking a long knitted silken purse she 
dropped me into it and slipped it through her button hole. Now 
as the meshes were sufficiently large for me to see through, I 
was in ecstacy; and I thought how much more agreeable it was 
to belong to a woman than to a man. For about four years I 
had to depend upon occasional peeps at the outside world for my 
knowledge of it, but as soon as I came into the possession of a 
woman I was given an opportunity to see everything. 

Margaret was just placing the daintiest little hat imaginable 
upon her head, when Clarence came hurrying in with a pale face, 
and seating himself motioned her to him, and read to her the fol- 
lowing letter which had arrived during the wedding: 

New York, April io, 1891. 

My Dear Boy: — 

Last Friday evening as your father was coming out from the 
city, the horses took fright at something by the road side, and 
began to lunge so terribly that your father, who was driving, was 
unable to control them, and in a few seconds he was lying 
bruised and bleeding by the road side. Some men who were pass- 


150 


ing, picked him up, and knowing who he was, brought him home. 
He was unconscious for several hours, but the physician assured 
me that there was no serious injury. Otherwise, I would have 
cabled you; but as the days wore on I began to grow uneasy for 
he did not gain any strength. The doctor came one morning, 
and for the first time, looked very grave. “Madame/' said he, “I 
have discovered that there are internal injuries of which I knew 
nothing, and at your husband’s age, I fear there is no hope of his 
recovery.” I fainted when he told me, for the shock was so sud- 
den and so terrible. When I was sufficiently recovered, a servant 
came to my room and said that your father was inquiring 
anxiously for me. Weak as I was, I went immediately, and he 
requested all the servants to retire. After all had gone 
he said in a husky voice, “Mary I am going to die, 
and I want you to send my dying message to our boy.” I 
was choking with sobs, but I managed to say, “Well, George, 
what is it?” Then he continued — “Tell Clarence that I am 
sorry I was harsh with him about his sweetheart. I didn’t mean 
to be, but — but — I thought it might be best for him not to marry 
her. I have studied her photograph, and I must say it is 
the noblest face I have seen in a young girl for years. Tell him 
that I sanction their union, and that he is heir to my millions. 
You must give them my blessing when they come home, for I — I 
— Oh, Mary dear, I will be dead. Don’t shudder, dear one, it’s all 
for the best, and since I have forgiven my boy I feel that 
God looks more kindly on me. A great white light is 
breaking gradually over me, and, ah, I see our little Jennie. 
Don’t you see her, Mary?” I told him he was dreaming, but he 
insisted that Jennie was near him. Then he was silent a long 
time, but finally his face grew bright and radiant and he cried 
out “Goodby Mary, dear, I’m going— Tell Clarence, I— I— for— 
forgive, forgi — ,” but the effort was too much and he fell back up- 
on his pillow — dead. 

Clarence, I hope you can come home soon now. Be sure 
though that you bring her with you. I know I shall love her, and 
she will be a great comfort to me since your father is gone. 

I am sorry beyond expression that I_did not send you word 


sooner, but I had no idea that your father was so seriously 
injured. But, my dear boy, we ought both to rejoice that he is 
happy. Happier far than he ever was here. 

Goodby, my dearest child. If still single, give your sweet- 
heart my regards. If married, give her your mother’s and your 
father’s blessing, and remember that the old home is still yours 
tho’ father has gone away. 

I await anxiously your letter telling me about the coming 
home. 

Your affectionate, 

Mother. 

“Just think, Margaret, I wrote father two weeks ago that I 
was going to be married, as I would prefer to do so rather than 
be a millionaire and marry some one I did not love, but he was 
dead and buried when I wrote it. This letter of mamma’s is two 
months old. It’s dreadful, but, dearest, while I must ever regret 
that my father and I had any difficulty, and while I must mourn his 
untimely death, for your sake, my dear Margaret, I can smile through 
my tears because while I know you loved me enough to marry me 
when we both thought that I was a poor man, lean now fulfill my 
promises to you. But poor, poor papa. Oh that I could see him 
once more.” Poor master, thought I, as his head fell upon his 
hands, and I saw his form again shaken with sobs, just as it had 
been a year ago under very different circumstances. It seemed 
cruel that upon his wedding day he must weep. But my observa- 
tion has been that there is never a sunny day, but it is followed 
sooner or later by a stormy one, and my poor master had his 
full share of the storms. 

Margaret at first was silent, and tears came into her eyes 
when she saw 7 her husband weep. Then she said “Clarence, dear, 
I’m so sorry for you, and I want to go immediately to your 
mother and comfort her. We must give up our wedding trip 
and go to America at once.” 

Clarence lifted his head, when she said that, and glanced at 
his lovely bride whose tears were mingling with his own because 
of the death of the man who had said such cruel things about 
her, and even in his sorrow a look of pride came into his eyes, 


152 

and I have no doubt but that he congratulated himself upon hav- 
ing secured so rich a prize. He knew full well what a sacrifice 
Margaret was making in giving up that trip, for had they not 
planned again and again how they w T ould spend their honey- 
moon among the Italian lakes? But he felt that she was right, 
and that they ought to go back to America, and to that mother 
who, although surrounded by all the magnificence that money 
could buy, was lonely aud “sick at heart.” So he drew Margaret 
gently to him and said “My Darling, you are a physician of 
hearts as well as bodies. Your words heal my wounded heart as 
much as your medicines would help my physical man were it 
bruised and bleeding. I dislike to deprive you of your bridal 
tour, but I can’t help thinking that you are right. Poor mamma, 
must be lonesome, and you could cheer her oh, so much.” 

“No /couldn’t Clarence, but you could, so we will go. Sup- 
pose we call Mrs. Howard and Robert and tell them about it.” 
Clarence left the room soon after and went in search of Robert 
and his mother. While they were gone Margaret laid aside her 
pretty hat with so faint a sigh that only I heard it, and then sat 
down and waited for the others. Soon they came. Clarence had 
told them all, and Mrs. Howard agreed with them that it was 
best for them to go home at once. Here was another 
woman giving up pleasures which she had dreamed over and 
chatted about for months, for she and Robert were to have ac- 
companied the bride and groom upon their tour. But she was so 
nobly self-sacrificing about it, that one would have thought she 
was really happy in doing it. Robert was disappointed, but said 
nothing. While all were talking, Clarence slipped out of the 
room and Robert soon followed him. Then Mrs. Howard and 
Margaret arranged their trunks to suit their altered needs, and 
Mrs. Howard spoke words of encouragement and motherly advice 
to this bride of scarcely two hours, who was now so sad and tear- 
ful. By and by the boys returned, and Robert’s face beamed so 
that his mother was at a loss to understand it. Nothing was said 
then. But I learned ere long that Clarence had made him a 
present of a sum adequate to defray his and his mother’s expenses 
through Palestine. This country was to have been visited by 
Robert and Clarence, but as Clarence could not go now, he 
would not disappoint his friend. Hence Robert’s happiness. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

FINALE. 

Vienna is far behind. Mrs. Howard and Robert are pilgrims 
to the Holy Land. Mr. and Mrs. Urban and myself are passen- 
gers on an ocean steamer. 

• We are entering New York harbor, and all is bustle and con- 
fusion. 

As the great vessel steams into port, Clarence and Mar- 
garet hurry into one of the little boats which are waiting to take 
them on shore, and Clarence pays the boat swain an extTa fee to 
be double quick in clearing the distance between the ship and 
the shore. 

Glasses are brought out and Clarence lifts them eagerly to his 
eyes and scans the miscellaneous crowd at the wharf. By and by 
he taps Margaret on the shoulder and bids her look at a certain 
place. “There is Mamma, he cries exultantly.” 

****- ****** 

The shore has been reached. Mrs. Urban has greeted with 
motherly affection the dear daughter her Clarence has brought 
from across the sea, and we are on our way to the Urban man- 
sion. 

Margaret’s face was flushed and she looked about her with a 
pleased expression which must have brought satisfaction to her 
husband’s heart even amid the sad thoughts which naturally 
came to him when he beheld no father at the wharf and saw his 
mother in mourning. 

When the carriage entered the massive gateway and rolled 
luxuriously along the gravel drive, Margaret gave a little excla- 
mation of joy, and then turning to her husband said, “Clarence is 
this your home? Oh, it is so beautiful.” It is our% home dear, 
don’t say ‘yours’ as though you had no share in it. Call it our 
home please.” 

Margaret’s reply was a happy smile. 

I shall not detain you by telling you all that happened dur- 
ing that first week. But I must tell you that when Margaret 


*54 


entered the room which Mrs. Urban had arranged for her she 
fairly screamed with delight. Everjdhing was so costly and yet 
so dainty. All was in the softest of blues and whites, and Mar- 
garet felt that she had found a home suited exactly to her tastes. 

She has an elegantly appointed office down stairs with 
sleepy-hollow chairs, highly polished tables, an invaluable medi- 
cal library, charts, instruments and medicines complete, and her 
time is divided between her patients and her husband. Poor 
women of every age and station come into this beautiful home, 
and are not forbidden. They always find a sweet face in the 
office and go away bearing in their hands medicines for the bodily 
ailments, and in their hearts that balm which never fails to heal 
a wounded heart — true womanly sympathy. 

There are many social duties for Margaret to perform, and 
very often people are charmed by the appearance of a little 
phaeton drawn by cream white ponies and carrying a stately lady 
with beautiful silver hair, and a sweet faced, girlish companion 
whose hair is of chestnut brown. 

Sometimes the little conveyance stops at the Stove Works 
and the creamy ponies have a handsome driver on their home- 
ward canter. 

But my task is done. It is now 1893. Two years have 
passed since Clarence and Margaret were married. To all intents 
and purposes my usefulness is over, for Margaret declares that 
she will never part with me as I played so essential a part in 
securing for her the greatest happiness mortal can know, viz. a 
husband who fully understands not only her mind but her soul 
and a home in which her every desire is gratified. 

Clarence too avows his intention to keep me, so I am very 
likely to lie in the lap of luxury for many years. 

In a corner of Margaret’s office is a handsome cabinet of 
coins, and in the center of these, lying in state upon a minature 
cushion of crimson velvet, I send out to the world this story of 
my travels. 

Whether I shall ever disclose any other silvern secrets will 
depend upon the success, if any, which comes to The Autobiog- 
raphy of A Silver Dollar. 










• 



